If I were to leave the countryside and move to a crowded city area, I would be haunted for the rest of my life by Maine. I would see her in my dreams. Around every corner I turned, I would be looking for her green shadows. I would be listening for her birds, straining to hear their songs. I would look for the furtive movement of her deer and moose, only to be impoverished and starved by their loss. Alas, in vain I would search for her earthy scent until I perished.
But I am a hunter and I hunt for Maine and I cannot do anything else.  I am mesmerized by Maine. 
I am in love with her bounty.  I
am awed by her beauty.  I am left
speechless by her natural wonders.  I am
made humble by her vast rivers and lakes. 
I am subdued by the treacherous cliffs of her shores.  I am enslaved by her uncharted and untouched
territories--wild, terrible, and free.  
I am poisoned with her, the Mistress Maine.  I am addicted to her, the beguiling green
princess.  I am obsessed with her fruited
fields.  I am infatuated by her woodland
promises.  I am completely enraptured by
her savage wildness.  I am lost in the
depths of her mists.  I am drowned gladly
in her abundance.  I am hopelessly . . .
helplessly . . . drawn by her endlessly . . .
|  | 
| The hunt for the elusive princess continues . . . | 
 
