Steamship Dreams
This photograph captures a moment that feels both still and full of movement—the Steamship ferry gliding out of Woods Hole Harbor at sunrise, its hull glowing in the early light. I took this picture while living in Falmouth, standing close to the shoreline, watching the boat make its steady way toward Martha’s Vineyard. The sky opened wide above the water, streaked with the hush of morning clouds, and for a brief moment, everything felt aligned—the future, the past, and the pull of home just across that stretch of sea.
Though I wasn’t on the ferry that day, I knew it would carry me soon enough. After thirty years on the Vineyard, I had stepped away for a time, but the island never stopped calling to me. Each crossing holds a quiet promise: salt air and soft light, familiar roads and rhythms, community, and creativity. I look forward to returning, not as a visitor, but as someone who knows the tides by heart. To call Martha’s Vineyard home again is to return to a deeper part of myself.
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Crossing Back
The ferry cuts a silver line
through the skin of morning—
quiet as a vow,
sure as the rhythm
I remember in my bones.
Sun rises like it always does—
gold burning at the edge
of everything I left
and everything
I’m about to return to.
Sky folds open
in long blue hands—
wide enough
to hold
a whole life twice.
The water knows me still—
my name, my weight,
the way I lean
into wind
like prayer.
From this Falmouth shore,
I watch the island waiting—
not just a place,
but the shape
my spirit fits into.
Each wave speaks its language
of return and release—
and I listen,
ready to follow
the pull of home.
The ferry moves farther out,
bright against the tide—
and though I stand here still,
part of me
has already crossed.