Maine, where the sea meets the land,
Where the mountains stand tall and the forests expand,
Where the lobster is king and the blueberries grow,
Where the people are friendly and nature's on show.
In autumn, the hills blaze with red, gold and bronze,
A symphony of color that nature composes,
The air is crisp, the lakes mirror the sky,
And the sound of loons rises with the tide.
In winter, the snow blankets everything in sight,
The skiers and snowmobilers revel in the delight,
The ice fishermen huddle in their shacks,
While the wind whips through the trees' barren racks.
Spring is the season of hope and renewal,
As the daffodils and crocuses push up and bejewel,
The precipitation turns to a warm gentle rain,
And the streams and rivers once again maintain.
Summer brings the tourists and the sea of sails,
As the waves crash against the shorelines and the whales,
A time for relaxation, swimming and fun,
Boating, kayaking, and soaking up the sun.
Maine, where life is simple and pure,
Where the scenery alone provides the sure,
Soothing balm that rejuvenates the soul,
And reminds us of the beauty life has to behold.
