Maybe the Manitous

January 25, 2013


Maybe the Manitous

Eastward rolling water
pellucid dense and slow
Karo syrup gloss or
flowing molten glass.
One crystal grabs
one grain of sand and
the beach blooms
with frost flowers—
a stiff white collar grows
all along the sandy shore.
Icy winds blast.
Ice balls bob, wink, crash.
An eagle’s cry hangs
above a white horizon line—
when sweetwater seas
Late afternoon sun—
deep blue shadows on snow

manitous whisper to ice shelves
sibilant spirits speak —
murmur to structures below.
From Milwaukee to Muskegon
cold rollers flow, then splash through
ice volcanoes on the shore
troll caves and canon balls
shot from polar storms…
or maybe the manitous.

–Barbara Spring excerpt from The Wilderness Within


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