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.