Issue 13
Winter 2003
Barbara Spring
From her house on Lake Michigan, Barbara Spring observes changes in the Great Lakes. She has traveled to the five Great Lakes, their connecting waters, and studied their ecology. She has consulted experts and worked on grassroots committees for their improvement.
She became an adjunct professor at Grand Valley State University where she designed and taught writing classes around environmental themes and also taught in the philosophy department.
As a journalist she has published numerous articles about environmental matters in the Grand Rapids Press, Michigan Natural Resources, Lakeland Boating and Field & Stream among others.
Her new book, The Dynamic Great Lakes, is about the changing nature of these lakes, their shorelines, their depths and their ecosystems. She wrote The Dynamic Great Lakes out of a deep conviction that people need up to date information about these lakes so that they may make good decisions about them.
Her poetry is found in several little magazines: Sky, Art/Life, the Grand Valley Review and others.
Maybe the Manitous
Eastward rolling water
pellucid dense and slow
Karo syrup gloss or
flowing molten glass.
One crystal grabs
one grain of sand and
the beach blooms
with frost flowers--
a stiff white collar grows
all along the sandy shore.
Cold.
Icy winds blast.
Ice balls bob, wink, crash.
An eagle’s cry hangs in midair
above a white horizon line--
when sweetwater seas
Freeze.
Late afternoon sun--
deep blue shadows on snow
manitous whisper to ice shelves
sibilant spirits speak --
murmur to structures below.
From Milwaukee to Muskegon
cold rollers flow to form
ice volcanoes on the shore
troll caves and canon balls
shot from polar storms...
or maybe the manitous.
Refuge
The beach seagull lovely
surf sand painting the shore
I slept on the sand
washed in wave sounds
and awoke to find myself covered
with ladybugs.
These bright orange insects sought
refuge in me
as if I were driftwood
sand
or a tree.
Variations
A star trembles
on the bottom of the well.
Candlelight flickers
in window glass.
The hooting of an owl
echoes in the hollow
and my unwinding wishes
spin into dreams.