Poetry

Glennie Halloween

By Gary Girolimon

Pumpkins glow with flickering light,
Open water turns as cold as fright.
A behemoth glides beneath the lake,
In bright moonlight you’ll see its wake;
When Glennie swims on Halloween night.

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A Day at the Lake

By Cheryl Van Beek

Sunrise winks over the water, wakes turtles,
lulls frogs to sleep under leafy sunbrellas.
A Great Egret ripples overhead, lands at lake’s edge.
Its cane-shaped head and neck reflect on the surface —
a white cloud, melting like time in a Dali painting.

Water lilies filter and cleanse the lake,
sprout buds like castle spires.
Whiffs of clover sail the breeze.
A Baltimore Oriole’s whistle-call
mingles with laughter, picnic chatter.

Sunset spills a glass of Rosé into the lake.
The moon glimpses its face in the mirror.
Branches scatter shadows of velvet slumber.
Frogs begin to sing.

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Life-giving Water

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

A whisper from stream’s rush
becomes booming, deeper truths,
shouted by a pounding surf

She never turned a deaf ear
to solar psalms and moon mantras:

In lack, excess;
in punishment, rewards;
in a threat (cancer), possibility.

The ocean holds the key to her survival;
sunlight dances on the promise of her future.

When the world forgets, she remembers-

The ocean is among the best medicines.

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.1

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.2
She has both.

Notes
1 Isak Dinesen
2 W.H. Auden

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I Want Lake Cane to Like Me

By Michael Zahn

I want Lake Cane lake to like me,
to share in my delight
to splash me back and tickle me
as we again unite.
The water never lies to me,
(its slap comes with a laugh)
I have to say its honesty’s
an aphrodisiac.
Its pulsing waves will take us
where no one else can go —
Kick and stroke and pant and hope —
we set the world aglow!

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SACRAMENT

By Michael Zahn

Below me,
the pool vacuum
sucks up my sins.
The workout ends,
I jump out,
the droplets slide down my skin,
I shiver in gladness:
Baptized,
refreshed,
forgiven.
Again.

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Dave’s Avocation Application

By Jay Madigan

A measly $3,000 a year at most,
Yet, a Mayors employee to boast.
Still a hard pill to swallow,
Must a Poet’s life just wallow?
In the City Beautiful, my host.

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Drink in the Waters

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Drink in the Waters

Ubiquitous

bountiful bays
luminous lakes
nourishing narrows

clear, cool creeks
swift, shallow streams

Rushing rivers
carve colorful canyons from
roily rock

Rough rapids
refresh and renew;
foaming falls’
resolution
serene seas

Best medicines

© May 2019 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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First Lake Crossing

By Barbara Giles

Splashing bodies glide into the deep.
Face beneath the water. Pulse takes a leap.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Fingers graze an object! Swelling sense of dread.
Monsters under water? Or only in my head.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Red orb floating. I can make it there.
Reach the halfway point. Now I can take some air.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Back under the water. Mind under control.
Back under the water before the day takes its toll.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Middle of the lake. All alone out here.
Glancing to the distant shore. All I feel is fear.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Reaching finish dock. Kick the fears away.
Face towards the rising sun. Time to face the day.
Breathe.

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Seasons’ Cycle

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Temperatures plummet, heaviness falls from the sky.
A weighty, shiny, deadly intruder overtakes everything;
glistens deceptively;
makes its home atop the small, strong, and sturdy;
coats the tall and majestic as well.
Even they must succumb to the crush
of its crystallized calamity.
In brokenness the fallen lie quiet,
hopeful warmth will return
for those who remain,
bringing with it a kindness…

Tasteless, colorless, and mindful.
Ubiquitous, nourishing and necessary,
flowing from heights, resolving itself in deepest, darkest places;
connecting one body to another;
carving colorful canyons from gray granite.
A gift from above it refreshes and renews
all that is around it.

The brutal becomes bounty.

©2014/March 2019/March 2020 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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