Strong winds along the coast in the morning, gusting up to 60 miles per hour. A Norway maple falls in our garden, falls on the two cars, dismantles the power line and tears the cable and the electric meter right next to the house. We call the power company. There are power outages throughout Maine and crews have to wait for the wind to calm down. At around 9 p.m., we hear the bucket truck stop. Two men, one a beginner, the other a veteran, come out, turn on their headlights and work in the dark, lifting the rope and reattaching it. We thank them, these men are doing their job. Line by line, through the woods, on miles of two-lane roads, electricity is restored. “You are our last stop of the night,” said one of them. “We are coming home for supper after that.
– Stuart Kestenbaum, Poet Laureate from Maine