In the calm of a lakeshore afternoon
Even the gulls fall silent
Light breezes reveal in relief
Where ripples swath the glassy smooth
Warm exhalations condense in the chill
With measured breaths
Close eyes
Breathe in the peace
Distant buzz grows
Hull thuds against the lake
Casts sprays of white noise
Laughter rises in several tones
Then slowly fades away toward silence
Until the wake finds the rocky shore
Splash
Splash
Another splash
Now stillness
But for the breeze
And my breath
The sky like the snow
Sullen and sullied
The latter a victim
Of spring thaw
The collected detritus
Of winter storms
Revealed beneath
Retreating drifts
While the clouds
Speak with the voice
Of ill wind and
Malcontent climate
But the lake
Ahhhh
The lake sparkles blue
And even the worrying breeze
Does little but kindle its glimmer
A beautiful scene
After the ranger’s warning
There would be naught
But the clouds to see
The air
Briny scent of death
The water
Still, thick with salt
The sand
Crusted, brittle, shards sharp underfoot
But the skies
Azure brushed with cirrus wash
And the sun
A hot glitter off the ripples
A beach day
Nonetheless
Sunlight skitters
Off the rippled lake
As a flat stone thrown
From a practiced hand
On a crisp December day
Atop an inverted sky
Snowy clouds
Blown across the ice
Thighs itch
From penetrating chill
A wan sun
Does nothing to warm
A few moments here
To record the scene
Then retreat
To the warmth
Of electric fire
A sugary cup
Of cocoa
And family
Then in between
The verdigris
And igneous
Within them all
Find I
I remember days long past
Of sunshine and calm
Depths still clear
At forty feet
The rod held
Expectantly
In your son’s hands
Paddle in yours
The strokes
A gentle
Powerful
Grace
You didn’t care for fishing
But I did
So out we went
My youth
A stream of summer memories
New England lakes
Bass and wallabies
A pickerel here and there
The perch and sunnies
Disdainfully thrown back
Paddling today
On a perfect day
I reflect on those times
And the times that would follow
Times of storms and dark clouds
Murky shallows
When we were not always
So gentle with each other
Awkward
Sometimes graceless
The depth of you
Forever unreachable
But still I knew you
As the father who’d take me out
For no more than the pleasure
Of my pleasure
That is
I knew
Always
That you loved me
You’ve been gone now
For longer than I ever had you
For your eulogy
I used the metaphor
Of the missing wingman
A natural for the pilot father
But on this day
Of sunshine and calm
Of depth and clarity
I notice a second paddle
Laying against the empty seat
Wishing your hands were upon it
So that once again
We could take on this task of living
With the harmony of paddling
Together
Transitions
Whether, in the end
For the better
Or for the worse
A matter of perception
But in transitions
Themselves, I always find
Some beauty
Large or small
Pix to Words 