Saturday, October 24, 2009

236 : George Einar

AGAWA BAY, for Sue

Their toes mushed soft clumps of green lake weed as they walked barefoot hand in hand in the warm shallows of the beach of pebbles washed smooth by the waters of time.

Their shared gaze of reflection cast southward across the great lake to the vast deserts of Michigan, Wisconsin and the drifting sands of a paradise lost to the vaporizing indifference of the Sun’s rays.

The shared nightmare of a future lost to a waterless world of tortured baked clay, rock, sand and dust wrought discomfort and anxiety as the collective vision twisted and contorted their souls.

Awaking to one another, birdsong, the sweet smell of fresh cut Wisconsin clover realizing it’s not too late.