Lake Superior

By Steve Gillman
 

There was a silence
in the crashing waves
in the swaying trees,
in the wind tearing at my jacket.
 

I sat in the rocks
with my belly full of berries,
watching seagulls in the cliffs
watching rainbows in the spray.
 

There was a stillness
in all this movement,
in this screaming beauty,
which quieted my mind.
 

I didn’t think these thoughts
or curse this perfection with names,
or write a poem
or say a prayer.
 

There was the sun on my face,
and this was superior
to any description, idea,
belief or faith.
 

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