Battleground

I stumble upon the remnants of a wintry battle between a fierce northeast gale and steadfast lighthouse.

Written by:

DOMINIC TRAPANI

MAY 10, 2025

One January morning a couple of winters ago, I paid a visit to Owls Head Lighthouse, in the aftermath of a northeast gale, to help shovel snow off the light station property. The landscape was beautiful, as it normally is after an event such as this, however it wasn’t the beautiful snow covered hill that garnered my attention. Instead, what instantly captivated me was the lantern room of the lighthouse, which was covered in a wintery glaze of ice and snow from the freezing winds that had buffeted the tower.

In storms such as this one, snow and ice can oftentimes gather on the lantern panes of lighthouses. Sometimes the snow and ice is so thick you cannot see the light shining through the glass, and other times you might see the light’s heat melt the snow and blaze through the wintery elements as they attempt to stick to the lantern panes. In the days when lighthouses were manned, it was the lighthouse keeper’s responsibility to ensure the lantern panes were kept clear during storms, but nowadays the heat from the glass prisms is the only thing that helps to melt the frozen elements. On this occasion, the lens had done a fantastic job of battling the weather, for it melted a hole right through the middle of the icy lantern panes.

It was a fascinating scene that I made sure to photograph, but it also prompted me to write a poem, which I will share with you below. Thanks for reading!

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Battleground

A battleground emerges upon this hill,
For across the sea out of the northeast,
The cold wind blows shrill,
As a beacon shines through the din,
Here a winter war does begin,

The fields of battle are neither rock nor soil,
But rather a hexadecagon of glass,
Winter’s invasion brings snow and ice to toil,
The lighthouse readies a guiding flame,
Victory they shall both try to claim,

Upon the glass these two elements fight,
One of fire, one of ice,
Under the cover of the darkest night,
Only the dawn can reveal,
Whom is the victor, and whom must kneel,

The inevitable morning has come,
And as the storm pushes to points north,
Sunlight reigns to show what has become,
A final score to be tallied,
In light of winter’s grand finale,

Though ice abound,
Light has pierced the wintery veil,
Fire is the victor, it shall be crowned,
Atop this snow covered hill,
It stands defiant in the face of the boreal chill

I found this online and felt the need to share it with you!