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Bobbi Dean
Onondaga Lake is a found poem. Her waters offer an invitation to take a moment and watch her surface change. I try to imagine her secrets—the Native Nations who fished here, picnickers who decades later sprawled on her shores for a day of play. I am in awe of Onondaga’s heritage. The word pictures that come to my mind flood me with images I share with others in poetry and stories. This connection, a kind of being-in-community with the sure, strong path of nature, grounds me. It is a base I can always count on, and feel very much an integral part. Living in Central New York offers seasons which give me endless chances to write about change. Creating haiku pinpoints this experience and helps me search for just the right word.

cool air hangs quiet
sleepy morning reflections
Onondaga Lake

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