Archive
09/17/10 - (4)
Lucky Cent
Not back in Lake Nebagamon half an hour, I'm in T-shirt, jogging shorts and shoes, Reacquainting myself with the town's streets, The root-intruded sandy paths of the boys' camp. I've brought the sun with me, from St. Louis, To this far-northern-Wisconsin clime, Which, for a week, I'm told, has hosted cold and rain, As if knowing winter's gloom is closer than soon. My veins course warm, in afternoon's blue.
Always, when rambling in and out of town, I've kept my eyes down, focused on the ground, And found at least one or three pennies, A shiny dime or two, a dull nickel, a worn quarter. But today, on my hour-long power walk, I come up empty-handed . . . and yet I haven't, Since I've just spied a penny lying in the sky, Guaranteeing that my superstitious spirit is in luck And that all will be well with my visit.
09/17/10 - (4)
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