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From water's edge, a grizzled old rock,
Gazes out o'er these great inland seas,
In the glow of the moon and the call of the loons
This child of "five sisters," will sleep.
Compressed by a million tons of ice
And smoothed by the tempest wild waves,
Now it dreams all alone to the lake's ancient song
And awaits Dawn's golden new haze.
Long 'fore the mound builders ever came
Or the wigwams rose neath the trees,
Before the lure of the ore and the pull of the shore
Or the "griffin" put sails to the breeze,
Before Sleeping Bear Dunes and Cicero Yard
Or the Old Tin Goose took to wing,
Our worthy old friend's long watch here began
In the eve of the newly bloomed spring.
Dim islands in the far off mist
Green forest where the gods call home,
Our sweetest pleasures and greatest treasures
Are here where these waters roam.
So wild and blue, impossibly free
May we always leave them so,
As when their soul was born
And these rocks were formed
From the ice so long ago.

– Terry Moore ©2015