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Lake Michigan

Lake Michigan 

                Saugatuck MI 9/1997

My Lady

She is always there

With so many faces and dispositions


She is always there,

Waiting for me to join her worshiping her creator

in a benign natural way.

She awaits apart from the bustle of occupation

She shines and darkens with or without me.

Responding to her creator and stewards as pets

Yet she appears unmoved and unchangeable 

Laying flat and blue forever.

The Great Sea

The beauty is not in the bikinis

Natural beauty itself engenders and collects.

The grandesment, the magnitude, of water and sky, is the stamp of her shores.

No inland lake with birch and fir and cottages will compare to this great sea

that encompasses my state

and offers such grace.

Masculine occupation

heavy machinery 

carports and billcaps

braving the cold

that makes the face ruddy

that tears the mind of all but the present

enduring the weather

to enjoy the satisfaction of a fish caught or a job done

making preparation for the feminine summer on the beach.

Pier Fishing

They line up with coveralls and cold weather gear,

although the weather warms inland.

Here is always cooler.

Here the hozon line sweeps everywhere. 

Blue on blue, grey fading in to grey.

The sun warms the dark clothes as we wait.

Some chat with buddies or acquaintances

standing, or sitting on buckets.

You can tell the pros, the old timers

with carts and all the right gear and bait.

Perch are being taken on minnows,

No salmon now at this spring morning

Each day is different,

Morning is best fishing

But evenings offer sunsets

The wind picks up

Underdressed and no minnows

I go to shelter of the car, arrange the trunk

Making a mental list of what is needed next time.

Morning Beach:

Sunday Blue

Unseen Horizon 

Quiet  Flatness

Still lapping, lapping, 

quiet lapping

Motors roar past

focus and bounce

But still she lays gently on the sand.

Children now.

frolic in the chill

Lovers pet

and flaunt their affections

But up on the sand  above the rolling grasses

lays a spirit at rest in the dune.


Cool emanates from her.

Many come to bask in summer relief.

Fish swim in her belly and men recreate

The utility of color soothes and heals the eye

A soul learns her blues, her greens and her greys.

A tourist delights in the light that burn and flutters.

They dance and kiss and say goodbye.

Her husband knows her moods and her winds.

He knows how to stand and when to hide.

Yet she keeps 

treasures and silences

beauty and repose

moving and alive.

The Sky is her only lover

The earth her only home

Living and loving dispassionately lifetime to lifetime.

Men come near to know her secrets

to cross and dive and shoulder

Premium value she exacts for those that would stay.

Off in the distance unbending from this small place

The sand rolls down in the summer 

after so long being blown into its place.

Summer’s End

It as so silent 

The oaks dropping their corns 

were louder than my footfall

Nothing was astir.

The stillness was heavy and wonderful.

As twilight faded to night, 

the light sand path hid with the growing fearsome darkness the forest floor.

Boldly stepping into the night, Each step looking for solidity

Assuring that the path continued between the shadows of the trees.

Abandoned now after the declared end of Summer, 

here now is heaven and peace.

When they now rush into imperatives, 

the gentleness of summer late is crushed

in the grid of determination.

Venus in my right hand and Mars in my left

I worship with exulted arms

Blue within blue within blue

The moon crests in my ear.

Annoying noise overhead 

Drones look down and see nothing

Only engines/motors in their wealthly cocoons.

The wisping dust print of grass on the sand

or a Jay calling its mate 

or a started fawn prancing over the hill

Sand as soft as cream

under foot and the brushing grasses on the leg

the naking secluded vista 

Communing with a very present god

who refuses to relinquish summer.

End of Day

The motors finally fade to silence

Aromas roll down the dune to me

Grey envelops us slowly

The pulse of the wave comes to shore as a prayer.