The lake stirs above and roils below,
with stories and secrets no one can know.
The unknown lies in dark abyss,
a deadly risk one can’t dismiss.
Adventures lived, some dreams are lost,
the price of life a higher cost.
Stories, fables, and legends unfold;
history is written as tales are told.

~McGuffy Ann Morris
I am sharing this post with Two Spoiled Cats, for Poetry Thursday. They offered the (above) photo prompt of the sailing vessel.

I have spent most of my life in the Great Lakes region. The history of the Great Lakes and its people is deep and rich. One of the most recent Great Lakes ruins discovered were from an 1803 Great Lakes shipwreck These ruins were found in Lake Ontario. The sloop Washington was built in America, but Canadian owned.

Shipping between the United States and Canada is an important part of the Great Lakes history. The Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, located at Whitefish Point, Michigan, pays tribute to these lost ships and their crews. In particular, the ruins of the Edmund Fitzgerald are featured there. 

The Edmund Fitzgerald has also been memorialized by Canadian troubador Gordon Lightfoot. The Mighty Fitz, hauling iron ore, went down on Lake Superior in 1974. The song was released a year later.


Time never stops, though it lulls us
into submission, allowing us to believe
that we have caught even a moment
in which to find ourselves.
Age teaches us the intangible things
that elude us in our youth.
Questions find answers.
Sense is made out of years.
Through age we finally realize
that it isn’t the questions
that ever really mattered,
but rather the answers, 
and what we do with them.

~McGuffy Ann Morris


Tomorrow holds feelings
that yesterday dreamt of.
I can only think what I feel.
Melancholy streams
from yesterday into tomorrow.
Now, the sun sets
on my moon’s horizon,
promising that I will
understand tomorrow
what holds me today.

Poem & Image: McGuffy Ann Morris

As we bid farewell to a fatigued 2017,
we celebrate the hope that 2018 brings!
Happy New Year!


A narrow path cuts through the bog;
it drifts along currents, into the fog.
Sunshine and moonlight have shown the way;
now autumn’s mist fades into grey.
Nature keeps secrets only dreams can feel;
light or shadow, illusion or real.
Soon the bog will drift into sleep.
Nature will have more secrets to keep.

~Poem & Image by McGuffy Ann Morris

Haiku #338


Earth sheds worn splendor~
weary, aged Autumn fades 
into Winter’s sleep.
Shared with:
Five lines or less
inspired by the word prompt