The sky is steel-grey with low-angle light,
Waves roll onto the beach from the endless line of surf,
Clouds saunter slowly past above Lake Michigan.
The beach grass is turning that golden color of the Northern Midwest,
Leaves are green,
Yet edged with yellow or orange-red,
Hints of splendors to come.
You may walk here today with the chill breeze that never stops,
Knowing that Winter will freeze you out in a month or two,
You pull your jacket tighter,
Reflective and visually immersed at the edge of a freshwater sea,
A timeless place where the seasons roll you,
And never the other way around.
The throngs of Summer are long-gone,
A few hardy souls wend the art of a cool lake,
Watching their breath waft up into the enchanted air,
Clutching a warm mug of coffee for dear life.
This place is bigger than you,
It's bigger than me,
Yet it's vulnerable to the endless raft of human ants,
Who are too small to see the impacts of their combined works.
You can feel that immense body of water,
From miles away you know where it is,
Just like it grinds broken bottles into soft beach glass,
Baubles for next Summer's children.
The seagulls sing their forever song,
Counterpoint to the bass of continuous waves,
Rolling, rolling, rolling,
The snare of grasses and branches rustling in time,
The slight notes of wind-whistle a finishing touch.
In the distance,
Far, far, far in the distance,
A train horn sings along,
Yet here is the domain of Nature,
Of seasons and time far older than us,
What was with us in our youth,
Hopefully will see children long after we're gone,
Poetry that is beyond writing.
In a place like this,
A softened giant timeless place,
You can find yourself an atom drifting with infinity's dream.
By: Daniel A. Stafford
|Miller Beach, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, 2010 - Photo by Daniel A. Stafford|