Leave the Great Lakes?

Never.

We feel their pulse in our blood,

in our sinews, our bones.

vibrations in our bellies.

Their islands arise in waking dreams.

And even in sleep we know

moon, stars and planets float in their waters

until dawn.

The Great Lakes gulp the sun at noon

while diatom symphonies

dazzle green currents

and curious protozoa graze.

In silent depths below

lie burbot, sturgeon, lake trout.

White sailboats belly out in the breeze.

On the beach rare piping plovers

hide their nests among stones.

We walk through singing sands,

scoop pails of water,

build spirit castles of wet sand.

Then we brush sand from our feet

and our hands.

The lakes’ imprint is in us.