From A Lake Michigan Bluff

High above the dappled lake
a sandy bluff begins to wake;
sounds of scurries underfoot
tell of creatures there at work.

Down the darkly wooded slope,
past the ancient pines and oak,
past the white-barked birches grand
I view young linden on the strand.

Water’s edge is a lapping wave
always moving, seeming brave while
creeping, searching, marking the shore;
pushed along by millions more.

Sandpipers there poke and run
in wet sand, below a rising sun;
they look for remnants washed ashore,
or telltale burrows giving more.

A great rosy ball ascends the sky
while gold-tinged clouds attend on high;
streaks of light paint the swells,
flow from where our daystar dwells.

first published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook

also published in Poetry Atlas