Archive
07/03/09 - (2)
Complexions
Within a mere three hours, this Friday before the Fourth, The lake has taken on a complexion I've never seen. It's mutated from harmonious to frenzied, calm to pulsating.
Speedboats have been arriving in town, all afternoon, On trailers hitched to tappet-clattering diesel pickup trucks, Which back them down, into the water, at the public landing,
Set them loose, like giant tillers hoeing up wakes, spray, Churning the astonished surface, with their propeller blades, As if this weekend were the extent of their planting season.
Not to be upstaged are myriad thrumming ski boats, Whining Sea-Doos, and lumbering pontoon boats, Moving in meaningless circles, straightaways, curlicues.
Meanwhile, each foot of East Waterfront Drive's shoreline, Every one of its docks, is clotted with people Come to join Nebagamon's celebration of the nation's birthday —
Relatives, friends, and acquaintances of year-round residents, Plus a miscellany of tourists, descending on the village, From Chicago, Minneapolis, Madison, Duluth.
The recession-ravaged country is craving its patriotic fix, Though skeptical about how to justify the excess; Yet all towns and cities agree their shows must go on, And proud Village of Lake Nebagamon is no exception, Despite leaning on its merchants, organizations, individuals, To raise the $4,500 needed to fund its fireworks display.
By tomorrow noon, the swelling influx of visitors Should be so colossal as to render this docile community A metropolis unrecognizable to itself.
As for me, a somewhat frequent sojourner in this refuge, I've primed myself to join in the revelry, Knowing that when I return, this August or September,
The lake will have reassumed its subdued complexion And I'll be able to commune with it, on my terms, Whole again, in the spirit of its ancient embrace.
07/03/09 - (2)
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