Door County is a friend of mine. On Facebook. So a couple of days ago, when they posted a picture of Cave Point, I remembered a poem I wrote years ago. My then husband was doing a documentary of some sort about Door County, and we went to Cave Point to get some audio of waves crashing on rocks. The recording wasn't as successful as hoped, but I wrote a poem about it anyway. I called it
Out With the Tape Recorder
We went to Cave Point
When the south wind was blowing.
Spume was blown in ink spots on
My blotter blue blouse.
Gull wings over wildness in
Silvered swoop and hover were
Backward blown in whiteness
Into temporary isles.We heard the lake waves
Lift and boom and
Drop off the cliff's toeholds
Over the bluebells and
Wash back in swashes.Electronic eardrums have
Heard it and merged it and
Give us a static
Containing this music.Barry has gone to fiddle with the dials.
