Lake Superior Songs

I. The Lake

Streets run straight downhill to the water.

The lake brings the city to an end.

It is there, always,

changing the direction of my walks.

Sometimes I go for days

without coming near,

catching only a glimpse through the trees:

a sail, a white speck

turning on the dark blue.

Perhaps someone very old

touched the back of my wrist, lightly,

for only the briefest moment,

or you said something to me.

What was it?

II. Picnic on the Shore

Shore grass growing

among the big rocks

enduring year after year.

This is the way to live.

A simple life,

the proper arrangement

of a few elements.

But here you are

standing on slippery stone,

trying to balance

a full plate and a cup.

What with the wrappers,

the flies and the wind,

already things

have gotten out of hand.

III. Brighton Beach Waves

White-haired but determined,

as if each had a purpose, a private destiny,

someplace to go.

Once the savior walked across the water

to give each wave a hand up.

Perhaps he is returning even now,

but the road to the shore is long, long…

The waves break and fall face forward,

losing touch, losing credibility,

losing all pretense of dignity.

IV. Driftwood

Driftwood on the beach,

dry and bleached white, white

as a bone you might say, or white as snow.

If an artist (wearing a sweatshirt, blue jeans

and tennis shoes without socks)

came walking along he might,

seeing the possibilities,

pick up this piece of driftwood and take it home.

Not me. I fling it back in the water.