Archive
12/27/09 - (1)
Stocking Up
Though snowshoes were useful tools in the woods, They readily become encumbrances Once I arrive back at plowed and sanded East Waterfront Drive.
Just now, under the milky halo of a streetlamp Illuminating the back gate of Camp Nebagamon for Boys, I bend down, awkwardly, loosen my lacings, and step free,
Commence walking toward the cabin, where I abandon my webs, And continue on, toward downtown. How effortless it feels, not to be wearing plaster casts,
Being able to control the strides I take, Rather than having to lift an entire leg at a time As if it were static, numb, I a circus-clown stilt walker.
Now, the village's lamps throw their coppery glows closer together, As I approach Waterfront Bar & Grill, Christmas lights festooning its open-for-business aura
And a phalanx of eleven cars parked before it (Like western-movie horses loosely tied to a saloon's rail), Inviting in all strays who might be out, this breath-catching night.
I keep going, past silent Lawn Beach Inn, the auditorium, Turn left at the Dairy Queen, head up Lake Avenue, By busy Bridge's Indianhead Tavern, dark Sharon's Lakeview Cafe,
Chippewa Valley Bank, dentist and post offices, Cable Publishing, Schaller's Variety Store, Rose's Bakery & Coffee Shop, Then cautiously cross County Road B, to Ole's Country Market,
A modest grocery store open till eight o'clock. It's a perfect night for me to stock up on provisions I'm missing: Lettuce, tomatoes, croutons, broccoli, carrots, red grapes;
Oh, and I mustn't forget to lay in tall kitchen bags, A jar of Jif peanut butter, a box of Kavli five-grain crispbread, And two or three packages of frozen fish.
All the six-minute walk back to my cabin, over compacted snow, My visible breath vaporizes, lifts into the bitter-cold sky, Drifting high, higher, until it mists the yellow, whispering moon.
12/27/09 - (1)
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