Lake Superior, a poem


The lake’s large waves lapped

in with the wind

and kissed my feet.

A seagull sat,

hunched on a large rock,

hiding from the wind.

I stepped carefully along the beach

of smooth stones and driftwood,

inhaled the damp, fresh air

and looked out to the horizon

barely able to tell the sky

from the shoreline.

There was something so final about it,

and something so exciting.

Infinite possibilities

and unfortunate dead ends.

The beginning

and ending of something

at the same time.


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