Southern Lakes

By Jennifer Kostrzewski

Southern lakes are great.
They’re warm, wet, and refreshing.
AHHHH! Alligators!

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Let this lake . . .

By Michael Zahn

Let this lake
be lit with love
for the creatures below
and the creatures above.
Let this lake
be flush with fish,
fulfillment of
every angler’s wish.
Let this lake
be glassy smooth
so paddle boarders
can get their groove.
Let this lake
be gator-free,
(as much as any lake can be)
so swimmers
can kick in ecstacy.
Let this lake
be free of yuck
for those who
quietly skinny-dip
(or chunky-dunk).
Let this lake
be fertilized no more
so weeds don’t choke
and block the shore.
Let this lake
be bright as crystal,
with clarity deep,
not superficial.
Let this lake
please all its users,
including canoers,
kayakers and canoodlers.
In summary,
we surely all want Cane to be
a haven, clean, pristine, pollution-free.
We are Cane’s men, we are Cane’s women:
Let this be our sacred mission.

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The Song Of The Chattahoochee

By Sydney Lanier (submitted by Tom Welch)

Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover’s pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.

All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried ‘Abide, abide,’
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said ‘Stay,’
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed ‘Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.’

High o’er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, ‘Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.’

And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
— Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst —
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.

But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call —
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o’er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall

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By Jan Annino

Feel breeze on slack back
see gleam on water
sink toes in soaked sand
follow fingerling fetching breakfast

Find stick at drift line
feel woodwork water-smoothed
rake grass in finger play
follow fold of tiny wave

Lean back at shore hem
sense world cruise far away
name white puffs skirting high
follow dream in mind’s eye
Jan Godown Annino


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Orlando orilla de lago

By Jan Annino

Orlabdo orilla
shelters shimmering glimmering
lapis lazuli
Lake Cane

Orlando orilla
circles clear dear
Lake Cane
Jan Godown Annino

*orilla de lago – (espanol, lake shoreline)


Good luck with the readings. I found this opportunity through the website of Ancient City Poets (St. Augustine)
though I’m not a member, which led me to the Florida statewide poets group, which had the call for poems.
Appreciations for your care of the lake & for your consideration. *Jan

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Oh how I miss thee

By Simba Durio

Oh Lake Cane how I miss thee,
It’s been too long without me
Did I take you for granted being able to drink you everyday but Sunday?
Perhaps, but alls I know without you the skies were surely grey.
My old crusty friends were getting lazy
Needing to swim before they go crazy.
But alas, things are no longer as dim
You can now sign up for a spot to swim
But make sure you arrive on time
Or I hear Ole Lucky will not be kind
Please make sure your name is on the list
Or today’s swim you will certainly miss
Even if you’re only open to just a few
I’m just glad I can see the old crew

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By Kathleen Fitzgerald

While I was gone, I imagined the lake awakening to the sun’s morning rays.
While I was gone, I imagined the carp circling hopefully under the dock.
While I was gone, I imagined the birds soaring and wading and diving.
While I was gone, I imagined the breeze gently rippling the lake’s surface.
While I was gone, I imagined my body immersed in the water as I pulled myself across the lake.

When I returned, the dawn’s early light revealed the majesty of the lake.
When I returned, the carp were fed treats by the morning’s first swimmers.
When I returned, a tricolored heron tiptoed along the shallow shoreline.
When I returned, the rippling waters reflected the clouds and the sky.
When I returned, my body and soul were renewed by the glorious lake water.

Lucky’s Lake continued to live while I was gone.
Lucky’s Lake brought me joy when I returned.

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At Long Last

By Robin Perez

At Long Last
A chill in the air
A slight chop on the water
Two by Two on both sides
Heading toward the light
Back again
Back toward the light
And home
It has been too long
But at long last
Back at Lucky’s again

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After the Lockdown

By Michael Zahn

For those swept away from us
by the infinite undertow,
we swim.
For the mourning,
we swim.
For ourselves,
we swim.
* * *
We undulate, remembering
those who lie motionless in boxes and urns.
We dive, remembering
those who won’t ever return to the surface.
We rotary-breathe, remembering
those whose chests no longer rise and fall.
We kick, remembering
those whose pace clocks are frozen forever.
We stroke, remembering
those no longer confined by lane lines.
We count our laps,
remembering those who are on the longest lap of all.

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Look to the Lake

By Brady Estrada

While the calm waters reflect our empty streets
and the rough waters reflect our busy hospitals,
in these uncertain times, we look to the Lake

we are Balancing this new life of doing nothing
and knowing that there is nothing we can do

nothing but stay home
nothing but look to the Lake

the water connects us from one side to the other
and while its bed is often more than six feet from its surface
it remains one Unified body

in these uncertain times, what we lack in proximity
we must make up for in Togetherness

so we look to the things that remain unchanged
we look to the Lake

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