Lake Latoka Property Owners Assoc
P. O. Box 102
Alexandria, MN 56308

Latoka Poetry

Poetry printed here with permission of Lake Latoka resident, Dorothy R. Haugee.

Summer Rain
The Marsh
The Death of Winter Snow
Dance of the Leaves
Christmas Stars
Old Tire Swing
Early Thaw
Summer Moments
Looks Like Magic to Me

Summer Rain
Hear the lip-slip of raindrops
In puddles at my feet,
On softly moving grasses,
On pavement in the street.

The rhythm of the raindrops
The purring sound of rain
Have filled the air with softness,
Helped earth renew again.

With lip-slip-lip and puddles,
The whispering, whirring rain
Entices me to dreaming
Of a world without pain.

It captures and enchants me,
That rain of falling sound,
Sweeping away and cleansing
As it splatters on the ground.

Serenity is coming!
We’ve a fresh new world again!
And a joy-of-spirit reviving
With the lip-slip-lip of rain.
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The Marsh
Tomorrow I will walk to the marsh.
I’m going to see the blackbirds
and listen to them sing.
I will smell the marsh
and feel the wet breeze brush my face.
I’ll sway with the cattail
and whisper with reeds.
The red wing of the blackbird will flash in the sun.
And I will smile as he clings to the reed,
Forever bowing and dipping.
Singing his sweet, pure solo.
Perhaps I should go to the marsh today.
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The sun and I at daybreak
Hold the new day in our hands.
As I watch in awed wonder
Morning flows across the land.

The aqua glow of sunrise
Holds a promise sweet and pure.
Morning’s a new beginning,
And its presence strong and sure.

We may reject the promise,
We may waste or throw away.
The new beginning’s there for us
With the changing of the day.
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The Death of Winter Snow
Down the road she goes
in her coat of dirty white.
No one seems to want
to have her in their sight.
“Be gone!” “Off with you!”
they cry impatiently.
“She’s been here too long!
we want her gone today.”
When she was a girl
they viewed her with delight.
Now they don’t recall
her coat of sparkling white.
Crying—so she leaves
those puddles in the street.
Sad to see winter
ambushed at my feet!
She will come again,
as everyone knows.
When December comes,
so too will Winter Snow.
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Dance of the Leaves
The leaves danced down, they DANCED, I say!
Foxtrotting as they moved and swayed
To music they could hear.
October blue! October clear!

Reluctantly they left the trees.
Seductively they met the breeze.
As wind made music in the boughs
They two-stepped; and I wondered how
They’d learned the music, knew the rhyme.
I saw them waltz, three-quarter time.

That clear and blue October day
I’m sure I heard one dancer say,
“I’ll hum the music just for you!”
And they DANCED by. “Tis only true!
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Christmas Stars
Into midnight silence softly blends
a newborn babe’s first cry;

With the donkey, sheep and cattle
munching straw and feed nearby.

We hear of shepherds and sheep on hillsides,
kings bringing jewels and gold.

Thus is the old, old story of the
very first Christmas told.

Hearing of that first Christmas, and the
message of love it sends,

Reminds us of that brightest star and
all its presence portends.

In our silent midnights, the promise
that is Christmas pervades.

The promise of hope for tomorrow,
cheer and joy for today!

Search for your star this Christmas season,
look for it everywhere!

Our wish is that when you find it,
PEACE and GOOD WILL will be there!
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Old Tire Swing
Old Tire Swing goes round and round
Black dirt dust upon the ground.
Green grass wet on summer earth,
Bare feet touching grass, then dirt.

Summer is a lazy time for dreams
Lazy days and mischief’s schemes,
Planning travel paths afar
Wishes made on evening stars.

Where now are those lazy ways,
Backyard games on summer days,
Time enough to wish and dream,
Walk and talk and fish the stream?

We need what those old ways bring,
Green grass, black dirt, old tire swings,
Moments left to ponder feet
Kicking black dirt just as they meet!

Let’s stop a while, count the stars,
Observe the planet from afar.
For we have visions yet to dream,
Problems to solve, schemes to scheme.
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Early Thaw
Have you ordered your seeds?
Wintertime is far along the trail.
Departing snow is making puddles.
Catalogues keep coming in the mail!

Have you started your bulbs?
Sun is shining brighter in the sky.
Surviving birds are still in huddles.
Changing clouds are looking soft and high.

Have you planned your garden?
Melting snow is dripping from the eaves.
Though season’s end is still a muddle,
Beneath the snow I saw last summer’s leaves!

Order your seeds!
Start your bulbs!
Plan your garden!
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Summer Moments
One feels a yearning lonliness abroad at summer’s end.
Though summer is yet with us change is riding on the wind.
Thrusts of golden yellow wander over drying leaves,
Winds grow in depth of temperature and summer moments cease.

Breeze steals through the grasses like creeping shadows on a wall.
As days move on, blackbirds flock, and we’ll hear the wild geese call.
That season is then with us when summertime is put aside,
There’ll be fewer summer moments when sun and spirit collide.

Should autumn come tomorrow, winds of winter on the way,
Where goes that shining substance of summer moments’ stay?
Does it become forever lost, forgot or put aside?
Could there be a secret place where summer moments hide?

Conceivably they tuck away in odd crevices and cracks
For at special times and places we find them coming back
With a gentle nudge of quiet joy, a lightening of the way,
Those collisions of the spirit with the sun on summer days!
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Looks Like Magic to Me
I look out my window in wonder and delight,
To view what has happened to my world overnight.
The elves have been dusting powdered sugar on the trees,
Leaving silver sparklers shimmering in the breeze.

Fairies must have worked hard making my world look clean.
Spreading bright fairy wisps, leaving a lovely sheen.
I see a wondrous world, a world of winter white.
Shadows have all vanished, disappeared overnight.

If you believed in magic, the elves might take a chance
And shake the frost off rooftops, doing their elfin dance,
Weave through trees and bushes, leave branches gray and bare.
This could enhance my world, there’d be mystery there!

Others have reminded me that it is really so,
Shadows are still with us, though covered all in snow.
Could I but keep the wonder, the magic and the elves,
Reality and shadows could be left on the shelves!
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