And sometimes I make art inspired by the wind sports and birds on the wing.
And sometimes I write a poem about the Great Lakes.
Before the Storm
Seagulls slide sideways on airstreams,
whitecaps boil on deep marine blue.
Curdled clouds crown the horizon.
The house creaks.
Light shifts as ultramarine turns
The air feels heavy, tense
then large drops spatter
stream down window panes.
Beach grasses grip the sodden sands.
The lake receives its prodigal freshwater
never asking where it has been.
After the storm, cold waves roll in slowly.
High above, a skull white moon:
below silent sturgeon move to
Excerpted from Sophia's Lost and Found: Poems of Above and Below
available at Barnes & Noble and many other fine bookstores.