From the High Point of Old Mission Peninsula

BY Shelley Smithson

From the high point of vineyard land
Between East Bay and West Bay,
Shimmering blues are seen on either side,
Framing the peninsula like two hands
Coming together in prayer.

Dazzling Michigan blues, deeper than the sky,
An alchemy of robin egg blue and teal and aquamarine,
Lap up against the edges
Of the soul, soothing and life giving.

How to calm the pulse that is raised
At a sight that sucks out breath and holds one still
In the silencing beauty?

The peninsula stretches out long between the bays—
A nourished land of knotty old maples;
Sturdy trunks unyielding to trials or tribulations
But showing their unrelenting penchant
For steadiness and peace.

And always those blues, eye bursting blues, rampant with possibility,
Their lullaby of the current rolling endlessly to shore.