Archive
06/20/12 - (2)
Canoeing, Late Afternoon
It's a mere thirty minutes, twenty-eight miles, from here to Superior, Yet their locations bear scant relationship to each other. We've driven to Super One, to replenish our larder, with fresh fish, And stop at Target, on Tower Avenue, to pick up a few new movies, Which we'll view at late, late showings, in our rec-room theater.
Now, we're back at the cabin, our groceries stored, DVD's set on the kitchen table, beside the cribbage board and candle, And we're eager to push off, from the dock, in our rented green canoe, Let the lake embrace its fiberglass hull, cradle us, in peacefulness, For an hour's boating, before the next forecasted rainstorm pours,
You in the stern, your smile facing me, I in the bow, sitting backwards, Clasping the paddle, just above the blade, with my left hand, The T-grip, at the top of the shaft, with my right fist, Drawing it deeply through the water, releasing vortices, on the surface, We submit to the breeze-shaped waves' persuasion, breathe as one.
The sky is an outspoken oracle of intricately inarticulate prophecies Declaring, in their gray-and-black-laden irregularities, Another wet night of silence-shattering, spectral phosphorescences. Yet, as we float along the boys'-camp shore, toward Lorber Point, The world is just too serene, too tranquil, to awaken in a storm.
06/20/12 - (2)
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