A succulent sky stretches out before us.
Dark humid clouds tumble over one another.
It is 1969, June,
At the Glencoe Beach.
Perched on the masoned limestone wall
At the bluff lookout above,
My brother, twenty years old, and me, eighteen,
Extend our arms to challenge
The gusts kicked up by the wind.
Mint-smelling air blows through our hair
And fills our lungs with song.
We cry out in unison when we see
Lightning snap across the sky,
Bathing Lake Michigan in a milky white
That makes us wish we could walk on water.
We smell the looming storm move closer,
Charcoal thunder not so distant.
We grin at one another,
Sharing the thrill
Of daring the storm
To lick at our edges.
Overhead, the sturdy oaks
Brandish leaves through the thickened air,
While the ferocious sky churns
Into our forever.
Shelley Smithson is a poet living and working in northern Michigan. She is a psychotherapist by day in her work life and maintains a private practice. She writes in her free time. She also loves to spend time with family and friends, and wander the beaches of Lake Michigan.