Rob Hunter’s collection of poems, September Swim, was published by Spoon River Poetry Press. His poems have appeared in Poet Lore, The Oddville Press, The Timberline Review, Sleet, Wild Violet, Straight Forward Poetry, The Blueline Anthology, and others.
And now it’s into November and darkness
comes early—by 4:30 it’s beyond twilight—
do we get more sleep,
our bodies shutting down early,
or do we drink more—or both?
We’ve already had snow,
sunshine erasing it from yards with little effort,
but more snow today tonight and tomorrow
may stay, cold air from the pole
pushing in on the heels of the storm.
The mud porch is stacked with cord wood.
The atlas on the coffee table
is open to Michigan
and I’ve been looking at images
of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Shore,
tracing the landscape of the Upper Peninsula
thinking of Nick Adams fishing
the lovely solitude of healing,
examining the roads I’ll take
all winter long
in my mind
and wake up in June and a new summer
of long days, my bare feet on that sand,
my eyes sweeping the horizon
of that vast body of fresh water.