Archive
03/21/10 - (2)
Lake-Quake
What brings me outdoors, this frigid Saturday evening, When the cloudless, crystalline sky Is teeming with crabs, bears, crows, lions, fishes, dogs — Constellations bearing archaic mythological names (Cancer, Ursa Major, Corvus, Leo, Pisces, Canis Minor) — Is my Weber barbecue kettle, On which I'm slowly grilling a whole fillet of steelhead trout.
The reason I need to wear my parka is obvious, From the steam spewing from my nose, with each breath. I absorb heat from the flickering red briquettes As well as from the glass of Chianti my right hand raises, Yet I savor each second of this exquisite Wisconsin crispness, Knowing, sadly, that these are my last hours here until May And that tomorrow night, I'll be back in my unnatural city.
Suddenly, volleys of otherworldy sounds — Moans, groans, growls, howls, barks, screams, roars... Something eerie, foreboding, weird I've never heard firsthand — Are so close that it terrifies me, Shatters my concentration on what I'm cooking, Causes me to spin around, violently, in the direction of the lake, From which the menagerie of caterwauling abounds.
Lake Nebagamon is in complete upheaval. Within minutes, my mystification, stupefaction turns to knowing. I've read about how, when lakes refreeze (As this one is, after a week of fifty- and sixty-degree heat), They sound off. I'm in the presence of a lake-quake. Sheets of ice are crazily contracting tectonic plates Pressing aggressively against each other, articulating their stress.
The lake is giving voice, from deep below its soul, To all those starry creatures that inhabit the celestial wilderness, As though there were no distance separating it from the sky. While my fish finishes broiling, I listen, astonished, to this cosmic-aquatic cacophony, And delight in hearing nature recite another living chapter In its book of myths from the time before man's existence.
03/21/10 - (2)
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