Two Kinds of Day

There are two kinds of day we call a real Lake Michigan day
This kind is cool, overcast, light rain or maybe just fog
My grandmother called it Scotch mist—another place
With an eye and a word for the water
Here it’s the Big Muddy, the neighbor’s leaf-clogged downspout
Both places doors swollen and propped open
In the yard until driven under the eaves until driven inside

A Lake Michigan evening, waiting for charcoal to glow
I torque myself into a patio chair and read
There Hemingway, here Twain, who both
Searched the water for signs
Tranquility or tempest
Who both eventually left the water
Forced shut the doors
Even Thoreau at Walden Pond
Went home to his mother’s for lunch

Ann Marie Gamble is an editor at an advertising agency in the Midwest. She writes fiction, poetry, and screenplays, and practices keeping it pithy on Twitter (@amgamble). She gets a lot of writing done in the bleachers at school events. http://annmariegamble.com/