Lake Michigan waves swoosh into his grandparents’ backyard. Go count the sand crystals on the shore, they say, for he is too loud. The sandy yard, the prickly lake grass, the lake water stirred gray by churning sand. On his knees, with the sun bearing down on his raw skin, he digs for jewels, […]
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via The Battle of Escanaba – Barbara Leonhard — FREE VERSE REVOLUTION
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