At the edges

A liminal space is a threshold — a place or moment caught between what was and what comes next, belonging fully to neither.

Stacked Chairs at Mt. Baker Community Club, Seattle, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Snow on skylight, first snow of winter 2025–2026, March 13, 2026, Seattle, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Back when it was still a thing, I was the third to last keeper of Matinicus Rock Lighthouse in the Gulf of Maine. This photo is of the lighthouse from the pea pod (wooden rowing dory) looking toward the boat house, the lighthouse, and the abandoned north tower way back in 1978. The north tower was known as Moe’s tower and was said to be haunted. The lighthouse was automated about 2 years later. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

This shows the ramp used to launch the peapod (wooden rowing dory) from the boathouse, along with an abandoned tower posed in a light fog. There were once two working lights, and this one was known as “Moe’s tower,” with its own stories. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

There is a grave on the island in Maine where I once served as a lighthouse keeper. This headstone marks the resting place of two-year-old Bessie Grant (1879–1881), bearing a lamb at rest and her nickname, “High Pup.” © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Georgetown Steam Plant adjacent to Boeing Field/King County International Airport, Seattle, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Hopper cars on a parked train with cherry blossom petals from trees across Airport Road S, adjacent to Boeing Field/King County International Airport, Seattle, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

I took this photo of a canal in Tokyo, its surface covered with fallen cherry blossom petals. Hanafubuki is the Japanese term for this moment, when sakura petals drift from the trees. Both the word and the scene, at least for me, carry a strong sense of the in-between. See my haiku, Hanafubuki, inspired by this scene. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

On a southbound shinkansen (bullet train) in Japan, 2010. See poem Parallel Convergence, inspired by my drink and the one in the adjoining train. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Sunset in the fog over Whidbey Island, taken from the Everett Marina, Puget Sound, Washington, December 2011. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Empty stage and seats before the audience arrived for the showing of “Aviatrix,” (the story of Bessie Coleman) at the Seattle Public Theater, Seattle, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

I often find that what I’m trying to say in a poem shows up later in a photograph, and sometimes it happens the other way around. This photo connects to the poem, Between Signals. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Overflow drain, runoff ponding basin, Mukilteo, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Gate to nowhere, runoff ponding basin, Mukilteo, Washington. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

Abandoned road adjacent to the Nooksack Indian Tribe (their official title) Reservation, Washington. This photo was used in a prize winning poem, The Sacred Geometry of Endings. © 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved

If something here struck a chord, I hope you’ll share it. That’s how these photos find the people who need them. And I genuinely want to hear from you: post a comment or reach out privately at craig@wanderingwordweaver.com

All my writing is free. I pay the artists whose work appears here, so if you’d like to support that, a coffee or a book is always welcome, but your presence here is already a gift.

***Please consider buying me a coffee or a book***

© 2026 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved