Glow
By Erin Grabe
My name is Erin Grabe, and I am a senior undergraduate student majoring in Social Work, with a minor in Sociology. During the fall 2025 semester, I was selected to participate in the University of Maine’s Student Environmental Research Team. This one-credit class included a field research and overnight trip to the Hurricane Island Center for Science and Leadership. After a long day of field work, my classmates, the research team, and our professor settled in on the island, processing data, enjoying each other’s company, and recuperating from a long day spent mostly at sea. I wrote the beginnings of this syllabic poem late that night in my cabin, headlamp on, hunched over my journal, struck by the totality of the darkness on the island, the closeness I felt with nature, and the persistent warmth I felt despite the sharp ocean air in early fall.
Night on the island is heavy, total
Scattered beacons of light draw us forward
A classroom’s golden light brightens the shore
We gather to escape the ocean’s chill
Professor frees echoes from the seafloor
Sounds of the sea, retrieved just hours before
Rapt attention, one light illuminates
Fills the room with sharp dramatic shadows
Wooden interior casts a dull glow.
–
Outside, we haul firewood up the hillside
Sit huddled around the bonfire, warming
Laugh, exchange academic rarities
Learning, telling our stories, our science
Even as the fire dies back, crackles, glows
People filter away, back to cabins
Tuck into sleeping bags, done with the day.
–
I lay flat on the pier, stare at the sky
Unfazed by the cold biting into me
For a moment, I’m completely alone
Just me, on this island, in this darkness
Waves lap, dock creaks, there is no light beyond
Stars and a gentle glow across the bay