Who can resist a quiet road that leads to a lighthouse?
It may be just a sandy lane, or a pebble-strewn path;
Yet, we are inexplicably drawn along its narrow, winding course---
Awed by the rumble of the waves beating against its base,
and mesmerized by the light, beaming from the tower face.
Who can remain on the ground below when there's a spiral stair to climb?
Inviting us to journey to the top, as lightkeepers did long ago;
Tempting feet to tread higher, above the frothy, tumbling surf---
where salt winds buffet and scour, and seagulls effortlessly float
over the beach that stretches far, like an endless castle moat.
Who can forget the giddy feeling of standing near to heaven,
with clouds drifting lazily by, like fleecy, laundered lambs;
And the stars a million friendly beacons to steer by in the night---
up where the keeper stood his watch and polished lustrous brass,
where darkness is forgotten in a single, brilliant flash.
Elinor DeWire 1996
Lighthouse Victuals & Verse (out of print)