The west wind and whitecaps churn
on my long-fetched Midwest lake.
I relish the violence and yearn,
as I have from my youth, to take

a naked dive,
to absorb nature’s dual power;
to be alive
in the storm’s most blustery hour.

I’ll swim and be swept, alone,
unashamed, unabashed, through the foam
of the surging, pounding freshwater sea;
and will learn, again, how it lifts and carries me.

I know when, at last, I emerge, from its power cleansed,
I’ll breathe deep in my soul and feel fully alive again.

Sometimes it’s not that/
you forget who you are, but/
where you are and why.

When she didnt ask/
me home post dance, I learned she/
was shaken, not stirred.

Thanks for God’s message/
’bout being creepy. Trust me,/
I didn’t realize.

Waiting for texts that/
don’t come is like thumb sucking:/
There’s no nourishment.

Too energetic./
Too excited. Too out there./
Too happy. Too much.

As the morning breaks/
I wonder: How often must/
I hear: “Find yourself”?

Why do we often/
say we’re ‘not loveable’? To/
God, we always are.

In reverent church,/
why do parents give children/
toys that make loud noise?