My boat
building friend Bob Williams (left in photo) recently
moved from Texas to the Upper Penninsula of Michigan
to be closer to his kids. His brother Don (on right)
still lives in Texas and wrote this poem for Bob.
Northward heading, toward the country
Where the loons and leeches flourish,
Where they have no word for winter
Since that’s all there is, he’s ready,
So he says, to pitch his wigwam
By the shining Small Bay water,
Near the huts of Es-ca-na-ba
And the lodge of Mor-ski-way-wah.
Where they have no enchiladas
Other than the fast food version
(Fast, because the salsa freezes),
Soon he’ll learn the Yankee foodways,
Learn the Yankee thought- and speechways,
Learn the winds on Yankee lakeways,
Learn the joys of porch and rocker,
Find a place to turn out boatage,
Find the water best for flotage,
Do whatever suits old-goatage,
Sit back and misspend his dotage.
