The North Shore Beckons

The North Shore Beckons by Karen I. Shragg


I can hear her conifers beckoning

From my perch

Behind the keys of my computer

Where I dwell surrounded by the din of a city

Who lost her soul to growth long ago

I wonder

In what mood will I find Superior

When I finally arrive at her doorstep?

I recall the wildness of her sweet shores

So iconic, dappled with mergansers, towering waterfalls

People-free horizons and sunrises that humble

But that was long before her popularity

Crippled her

The rocks that have long taken her beating

Are likely the only things which remain unchanged

Still, I will try to ignore the wider roads and billboards

The traffic and the felled trees

And enjoy her majesty once more.