*photo 2024 by Matt Mead
Aye!
I remember the sloop Jenny/Ann
The best of the fleet on the deep lake,
The Ojibwe called Michigami.
When the bag-lake exploded one gale-sultry day.
The day Jenny-Ann met her fate.
Michigami rules the Great Lakes
From it’s depths to the top
Of it’s sun-baked dunes.
The sloop Jenny-Ann was destiny struck,
In 1872, when the big lake
Called her November number.
The sloop they say,
Built better than most
Was better than
Michigami could muster
But like her sister, Gitchigumee,
Neither lake gives quarter
To those that dare venture
November.
No one really knew,
Who?
Nor how many souls were taken
Plus two,
From captain, passengers and crew
Who knew? Who knew
Michigami would snatch up two.
That ominous fate-filled,
Storm-driven day.
So utter a prayer,
‘Pon passing the Jenny
And in reverence
Don’t dare lay a hand
On the skeletal ribs
That lay half-buried in shore-sand
In reverence to the remains of that fateful Fall.
When Michigami came a calling.
tom tenbrunsel
A Carl Sandburg Writer
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