Shrouded Shore: The Many Musings of Thom Singleton

  The “Truth” Is it only what you believe to be true, and everything else blarney, bunk, and balderdash? There certainly seems to be enough of those three B’s in the world today - accusations, that is - with opposing camps set in their “truth,” and not allowing others to have theirs. Wouldn’t dialogue be a better approach, asking to understand, not to condemn? We’re all the product of our own experience. Ask for theirs and see what an attempt at understanding can do. Perhaps we’ll find that we’re not really so far apart, if we take the time and effort not to criticize but to understand. It is the beginnings of compassion. Ain’t that the truth?  

  A Bird Who Thinks He’s a Man He crows and clucks Quacks like a duck When stuck in the muck But it’s not his luck To shuck the guck For it’s his own huck  That keeps him stuck What kind of a bird is he? A bird so burdened with his own bull That makes him incapable of being truthful A bird, really a bully, who thinks he’s a man A birdbrain named Donald*            *That’s not Donald Duck, though, in some ways, he's similar.

Wild Wind Straight line winds Straight from hell Make all else crooked Flew like a jet Crazed trees roar The rain horizontal Lightning flashes Thunder drum bashes Makes my heart skip a beat Last storm, lightning hit Hit the great oak Hovering over our house What will the wild wind do?

  The Waters of Wisconsin A land of great waters, Wisconsin’s shores include those of Lake Superior, the largest lake on Earth, and Lake Michigan, the world’s sixth largest. Furthermore Wisconsin is bordered on the west by the mighty Mississippi. Inland of these gigantic waterways lie no less than 15,000 lakes and countless rivers. The State is a land of bluffs and beaches, forests and farms, and, of course, lakes and rivers. Except for its southwest corner - the Driftless Area - Wisconsin was carved by another water form, ice of the last Ice Age 12,000 years ago. Thus Wisconsin owes its topography and verdant green to water, both in its liquid and solid forms.

  Hot Hot today, way hot.  Blazing, burning, Boiling, bubbling Searing, scorching, Fiery hot!  What to do? Turn on the AC And write poetry.

  On the Bluff It is in the driftless area of southwestern Wisconsin, an area untouched by the glaciers of 12,000 years ago. It is an area of forested hills and hollows where no road is straight and many are unpaved. Navigating those roads with helpful directions by a native ATV rider, we eventually arrived at our place to stay for the upcoming week. It is a knotty pine castle they call the Bluff House, bluff not as in “you’re kidding,” but “huge, round hill.” And what a house it was, what a hill, and what a view! For the house sits high atop a bluff overlooking the Great River, the Mississippi, a view without price. It takes massive bluffs to contain the mighty river, originating hundreds of miles north at Lake Itasca, Minnesota, and coursing a couple thousand miles south to where it empties into the Gulf of Mexico in Louisiana. The Bluff House soars high like the hills it was named for. With its cathedral ceiling and huge windows, the house opens up to a view, miles long, of the rive

  Two Fauns Two fawns leave the woods behind our house and graze in our meadow, otherwise known as lawn. Hearty eaters are they, sampling the buckthorn and munching the clover.They’re used to my presence as I write this on our deck, though their mom, if she were present, would not approve their closeness to me. Satisfied for now, they scamper off into the woods. Too bad, because they’re welcome to mow, well eat, my grass anytime.  

  In the Wind  Green waves sway in the buckthorn at the edge of the wood. Maple branches whisper a song and take a bow. A great, spreading cottonwood flickers its leaves like an audience of hands clapping. Large, old ash trees - leafless, gutted by ash borers - swing, seemingly returned to life. Mints and milkweeds dance together in the pollinator garden. On the pond ripples disturb the spruce’s glassy reflection, while water striders make tiny wakes. Arboreal life cavorts in the gusts.    

  We Are So Different  Surface attraction Deeper knowledge Stay together anyway Love says vive la difference!