"The waves of Lake Michigan mimic the sea as flatterers imitate the trend: naturally, with such entitlement and confidence that we all forget who did it first.
She is giant; some won’t even near her for fear of being swallowed and born again. Others compare then lose sight of her, but ships are wrecked here, still chock full of yesterday, washed clean then grown over.
Metallic din and foam and rot and rock.
I've closed my eyes, submerged in her more times than I've called any lovers name.
She is where and who.
She is both muse and composition.
We are kin.
And I am grateful."
Mahalia Abéo Tibbs