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Finger Lakes
February 23, 2007
There is a row
of row houses—
a boat, out at
the cabin.
Guinness
and micro brews.
Out on the lake,
the seaweed
covers the floor
for ten feet.
The glaciers
carving sand.
Lake Seneca
is in my heart.
Categories: Come Outside
Jared Wahlgren
qarrtsiluni 
Great images, especially the finger-like form of the poem. I also got the sense of tracing with a finger and traces left behind.
Any poem that mentions beer earns an almost automatic place in my heart.