Lines

Glance across great body of water,

See a family of fowl travel near

Look to notice crystal waves appear

The magic of earth is all the matter

 

Birds sing in the hidden pine of morning

A quiet reminder that love is in the air,

Symbolic in its historic grasp of where

Our lives begin sweet, soft listening

 

While for the moment the sun looms high

A brilliant casting inside mellow earth

We haven’t ever understood her girth

This profound lesson toward asking why

 

I stood inside the water’s edge today,

Humbled asking I might a cry this way.

 

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Whisper My Name

To be heard

By her magic symphony

I am the audience

She the mystery

 

Oh, to know the many

Value of this body of mystique

The waves lapping shoreline

Only to be heard.

 

I wonder the soul

She keeps in quiet harmony,

The many lives, the sea men

Leaving wives and children home

 

Would we the living

Ever really understand

Why such stark reality

Beckons her command.

 

On occasion my passion

Would be the horizon

By which nature’s remedy

Harmonize sweet melody.

Sitting With You

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Lake Superior in Spring 2015

~

I have in morning at break of dawn,

while the afternoon plodded on,

I have in the evening watched your fury,

in the tides of settling sea I have looked.

~

Yet in all of your mystery,

I will look again for answers,

cast an eye upon your majesty

to realize I am again your visitor

~

The last rings of winter caress

your sides like clinging threads

on the frame of our shoulders,

only to recede when sunlight speaks.

~

yet you will continue to be the same,

a master of our universe, just waiting,

allowing many to traverse your skin,

if only to remain outside of your lair.

~

Those that have dared are nameless

to you, yet families grieve years later,

the depths of your mystique swallow

the kindest soul, the earnest fathers

~

I look out upon you as evening breaks,

watch the ring of clouds frame you tonight,

only beauty and exceptional grace come

to mind, as I again, wait for your answers.

~

your history is timeless, the merchants that pass

through your waters, daily, searching their souls,

we stand on the shoreline without ownership.

I stand alone wishing you might one day speak.