Lake Forest
Upon returning after many a'year Emerald lake, royal blue, gray, brown Surf churned high in the winds that wave the leafy, lofty tree-tops Crashing into solid, squared rocks Stately streets, stately trees Tranquility and security rooted in solidity divine Old money, very old money, in endless supply, countless Young people with airs above it all Others preppy kicking a ball to a golden retriever named Bently In a front yard of a hellow home of classic splendor And grungy prepsters toying for a brief time with egalitarian boundarilnessness... 
It is the peace, though, when you step away From the wild whipping tides of sacred green And royal blue, and gray, brown lake-mass of boundlessness... Even the birds chirp in classic, stress-free eternalness... Here time stops (even time under control) Everything is as it ought to be Order prevails It goes without saying there are dark corners Of madness and degradation, where souls are stolen...
After all, this is just north of Chicago... But those stories do not meet me, here in the heart Of gratitude for God's Grace. |