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
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
By Jan Annino
shelters shimmering glimmering
circles clear dear
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
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
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.
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 toward the light
It has been too long
But at long last
Back at Lucky’s again
By Michael Zahn
For those swept away from us
by the infinite undertow,
For the mourning,
* * *
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.
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
By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
I gaze upon your stillness pondering,
What secrets lie below your calm display?
Incessant question’s answers squandering,
Assuming promise of another day.
Eyes fixed on clear reflections undisturbed;
There stoic models pose without fatigue
Seem evermore serene and unperturbed,
But for the chevronel of ducks in league.
Spell broken finally, the winds join in;
Images ripple freely to-and-fro ,
Without restraint the waves their work begin.
Revealing what may happen down below.
The turbulence calls upward precious gems
That in sunlight vie for His diadem.
© May 2020 Suzanne S. Austin-HillRead More
By Laura Cole
We whine and pine for the Lake sublime
We wish to swim, but are hemmed in
No amoebas, shall we thus inhale
No pirhhanas, nipping at our heels
No monster shadows as we swim
No zombies as the daylight dims
No coffee, bacon, or pancakes
No old stuffed gator, no accolades
No signing of the wall of fame
No glorious pictures of the day
No Easter Sunrise, prayers still arise
Our fellowship we do remind
This is our fate, this is our due
For we are quarantined, it’s true.
COVID 19 has had its say
And home it is, we all shall stay
But month be gone, still to this day
The quarantine of sweet Lake Cane
Momentous as this time may be
There is a hope our eyes shall see
For one day soon, we shall return
To give our muscles quite a burn
And to Doc Lucky we will remark
Thankful gladness in our hearts!