Canoe

I canoe along the ocean-like lake,
Not a care in the world, not the sound of a motor.

My paddle, caressing the water with every stroke,
The canoe, walking on water, careful not to capsize,
Just my paddle and I, skimming the water.

Gazing upon the forest edge that meets the shore,
Noting the fire-burdened trees to our right,
Twigs and trunks, burnt and charred,
Victim to a decade of fires, vulnerable.

The forest, isolated and lacking inhabitants,
Centuries old, nearly forgotten,
Greets the world, "Hello", with its gift of oxygen,
No reply, no appreciation, no thanks.

The island just up ahead, holding a deserted house,
The crimson paint, chipped, the windows, broken,
The rocky shore of the island, barricades the house,
Years of memories, hidden behind its doors.

Remnants of its garage, hanging over the water below,
The foundation, crumbling and eroding away,
Days away from calling the rocky lake bottom "home",
The lake's castle, in its final resting place.

An old beat-up fishing boat, anchored at the house's dock,
The boat, natural, matching the landscape,
In its rightful home and place,
The ancient boat, swaying to and fro, in its own harbor.

Pondering creation's great accomplishments,
Reminiscing the beauty that surrounds me,
The serene setting, unknown to most,
Away from bustling cities and at peace.

I continue on my journey to nowhere, enjoying nature,
Bird calls surround me, the quiet splash of the water below,
The many throngs of mosquitoes, decorating the air above,
I make my way along the silent waves.

Home, sweet, home...

Copyright © 2007