On First Bringing My Husband To Lake Superior
Lying, protected by these blazing sun-flowers, my shoulders stinging, pinking, red
with too much sun. Before this day is done
and we leave this sanctuary, I head
into Superior’s blue again. White-
caps slap my ankles; north wind bites my cheeks.
This is my gift to you – my great delight –
In wind and these shrill gull-calls my God speaks.
Chicago boy, now grown to man, I know
your soul. Your rapt attention to this sound
will become your sonata once we go.
This beach and Lake, to me, are hallowed ground.
I bring you to this sacred space to share
this cerulean inland sea, so rare.