by Lillian Soshnik-Tanquist
Sunrise Over 61
by D McDonald
Light breaths of golden cream
warm the horizon,
as morning rays paint the
still sleepy waters
the palest silver.
Steep ridges of rusty basalt and gabbro
guard the north,
and though dozer and dynamite have
scarred the cliffs,
their somber silent voices still hum,
still whisper to all who travel through the
country jagged
with naked birch and rugged
spruce, that this land of honey—
both forbidden and for all—
is sacred,
is Superior.
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