When I first saw Lake Michigan from the Leelanau Peninsula in the 1990’s I couldn’t believe that this mid-continental, massive fresh water lake looked like the Caribbean sea – blue-green waters, beautiful beaches, rolling waves. The dunes rise to over 300 feet in some parts of this county and host incredible forests of oaks, maples, beeches, white pines, and hemlocks. . Over the years, walking out to the lake at Good Harbor Bay, I came to appreciate it in every season. The fact that this part of the lakeshore is protected for miles and miles as part of the National Seashore means that it is not overrun with homes or parking lots, or huge crowds. We who love this area are sometimes reluctant to broadcast how wonderful it is. This poem reflects on this special part of the world. Michigami is the Native American name for the lake.
Run to Michigami
he ran light as a chipmunk,
feet patting the packed woodland trail
in the Leelanau dune forest, thinking
trees grow straighter, taller
when crowded together –
men, it seems, grow more crooked
he loped into a sunlit dune meadow;
chicory, knapweed, wild oats, black-eyed Susan’s,
sumac, a white pine toddler or two;
wondering – how long does a meadow last
before it becomes a forest?
then dashed through taller grasses
and there – the lake – Michigami,
Good Harbor in four shades of blue green;
waves shushing thoughts
Pyramid Point south
Whaleback north
the Manitous west
the long arc of beach, sand, driftwood,
millions of smooth sea-shaped stones
yet one called to him
he pocketed it
breathed deeply
sweat made dark droplets
in the sand
so, he murmured,
here
I am
Brian J. Zink
August 2025
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BJZ Poems and Musings 
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