Image credits: Daniel Kopyc

You won't hear my poems at the poetry reading,
You won't hear my poems over the radio.
If you want what the God says through me
Come alone with me into Quetico
and we'll canoe across lake after lake
where there are no roads or houses
To a perfect lake with a perfect island
Where you and I will pitch our camp
and catch fish for twilight supper.

Sitting around the fire at night
Ask me to read something I wrote
For this is the place to hear me,
More stars overhead than you ever saw,
no other light in the woods for miles,
no other sound but the loon
And the night wilderness smells of September.
This is the place to hear my voice
if you want what the God says through me.