Gulls wash their feet in the waters of Lake Michigan
Chewing dead trout on the beach.
The dunes are moving inland
Rising high like the hills of my home
A forest floor of fallen oak leaves
Before the brightest red berry bushes.
We climb one dune, pushing through the fine sand.
From up high we see Chicago and several
Spewing smokestacks across the lake.
We wonder what will happen, the world
Now under the heavy rule of the religious right
Still, so many fresh ideas will find a way through
This whole lake waves just as we walk on
Singing songs and sharing each new day.
