Camden is a small midcoast Maine town that I hadn’t visited for years. I was fortunate enough to have a writing retreat closeby in So. Thomaston ME, so I drove north to visit Camden again. This photo was taken above the harbor, last May.



Today I drove up route one to Camden,

passed downtown in the half-sun day, all

cafe lattes, sun hats, soaps, Camden is

a tourist town now, a yacht-filled harbor,

no fish or oysters for sale here anymore.

When we were twenty-one Eduardo and I came,

in 1980. We left Boston after work, got 

the tent up by eleven, under flashlights

and stars, then slept, tumbled close,

covered with scents of pine and salt.

In the morning, sun the harbor glittered. 

Waves sprayed diamonds for us when

we gathered more mussels than I’d ever 

seen, before or since. We cooked them

in a huge pot over the fire. We drank wine, 

laughed, and we were happy.


About elainereardon

Poet, writer, gardener, herbalist, pottery, painting—bumping into magic, peeking around new corners.
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4 Responses to Camden

  1. Margie says:

    Nice photo and post. It brings back memories for me too. Back in the 70’s I took myself on a trip around New England and found Camden to be a favorite place. 🌺

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Phyllis Natanek says:

    Yep…very true. Loved this.

    Liked by 1 person

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