A meandering stretch of twenty miles
from hip Cross Village to Harbor Springs,
through hairpin turns and roller coaster dips,
we, the lovers of the lovely
travel through Michigan’s Tunnel of Trees.
Up ahead a windward wall gives way to sunlit stage.
We stop and walk to precipice-edge of crumbling sand
for a Lake Michigan show, 300 feet below-
the hazy blue sky melting into cobalt green sea,
the frothy-white waves kissing pristine beach.
Through sylvan cathedral of maple and oak
we journey on to the bucolic village of Good Hart
where we can meditate at St. Ignatius,
tie the knot at Northern Nuptials,
and enjoy homemade goodies at General Store.
On this, the second week of May,
through flickering aperture of wind blown leaves
dappled light illumines millions of trillium flowers
that carpet earthen floor to caress the frazzled essence
of both fallen tree and traveler in the Tunnel of Trees.