Sunday, October 16, 2005

Still Lake

Though it is October, summer isn’t over without a day on the lake. And friendship really never ends.

Still Lake

Shady dock. Red canoe.
Green algae paints the water line
on rock wooded shore.
Red and yellow bottomed turtles sunning,
plop from logs as we approach.
Gold-leaf boat sails beneath
the web-wrapped snag.
Water skippers playing tag.

Muskrat swims along the bank,
circles, circles back and back
to hidden mud leaf,
rush and reed.
Dead trees tell of bridge and ship
builders’ ancient dream.
Beam and masts still stand
unused till after world.

Breeze touches lake away from shore.
What fish jumps in silver
light so near afar?
Two ducks quack-flap off
from willow shade.
Love for life, or fly away
from rendezvous of water feast,
leave by south and northeast.

Pasture of apples, gold and red,
electric fence protecting
from waterfront and beast of trek.
Reflect sky travel on the dock,
thirty of the summer’s clock.
Boys sharing, comparing
tools of survivor’s trade,
happy in the shade of this still lake.

(I wrote this five years ago after a day with friends near Lonsdale, Minnesota. Seems like it was yesterday.)


  1. I like your work, but I would like it much better if you would give us complete sentences.

  2. Okay. Sentence structure (& completeness), grammar, syntax all have an important place in written & oral communication--especially with the educated. I haven't been schooled in poetry, but I know what I hear, what I see and what I feel presents me the poetic experience that I want to share. Too often "the rules" interfere with the transfer and recording of the original event. Less says more. -a