(Okay so wordpress screwed up my html and the spacing of this poem got screwed up. But I sort of like the random effect. Just pretend this is High Poetry and I meant it to be like this. This poem is about a park in Door County) 

At Cave Point

It was a relief

      40 or 50 feet past the imposing sign that said:

      “Danger – Cliffs!”

when the high path that we were on

      With our children

      Who were not skilled with step

bent down closer to the flat uneven rocks

      which gripped the Great Lake

and we could let go of the small grasping hands

      of 3 who had experienced healthy fear

            as they peered over and saw how far above the pounding waves
they stood.

Now that we were much lower our boys were crawling around
the rough rocks

      And gazing out at the endless undulating body of water

      And noting with interest the claw of a crawfish

      And crawling in
the cave from which the Park got its title

Now they were free to explore and stare

      And crawl
through openings in the rock

      And ask hopeful,
thoughtful questions

      And consider the
Lake’s Depth and Breadth

And here is a rock I can add to the mass of the water

And what is the story behind this wine bottle cork that we

And how much of this would we not be able to traverse if
the water level wasn’t so low?

We are comforted as we stand as a lone family,

We are guarded by the wall of trees standing behind us

      Like sentries

From all that we have escaped to get here

      So that we may experience peace.


In the back of our minds, we have the knowledge that

At the time of our departure

We will have to climb up and again pass by the cliffs

      And experience
the fear and momentary despair

            Of the
knowledge of certain death

            If one of
us is careless

                  And allows
our foot to slip

On the way to our van so we can drive away

We will just have to keep our children in hand.