Sand gives
way under my feet
as I
bend to the effort
of climbing a dune
on the sweetwater sea.
Beyond
waving fronds of seagrass
water to the horizon heaves and hurls
plumes of foam that pound the shore.
It polishes
stone
and whittles
driftwood
burnished
and smooth as a baby’s sole.
With
sand in my shoes
hardpack
underfoot
I fill
my pockets.
Clouds scurry
happily overhead
as
gulls ride the waves
like surfers
in wet suits.
Where water
meets sky
the
stars and the moon live in the depths
while on
a rush of wing
eagle
eats gull and feathers fly—
ferocious predator
rules the sky
while fox
of the bayou
trots over
the sedge
to
circle his den of many rooms—
intrepid hunter
rules the beachhead
as Superior
turns herself
inside
out to bring in treasures
whittled
to size by the push and pull
of the
big shining sea.
For dVerse, the Poet's Pub, and their Open Link Night, Poets and Storytellers, what does "low battery" mean to you, and how do you recharge? and What's Going On the writer's blog that asks us to think about the personal nature of homemade gifts, and while they're the best, I think gifts washed up on the shore of Lake Superior might be their equal
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