Lake Michigan, Wednesday

You may have had a moment of indecision

yesterday, say between two thirty and

two forty five in the afternoon, followed

by a sense of déjà vu or perhaps the warm

welcoming feeling common to those

entering a fire lit room from a frozen

porch at twilight, awash somehow in

a flood of nostalgia for the good old

days, a mercy really, when you stop to

consider them in a less than flattering

light, the kind that bathed the wind lashed beach

north of Grand Haven in a feeble gloom

I tried my best to dispel, hands extended

high above the furious waves, eyes closed

in benediction to you on the opposite shore.