I went back to my lake.
It was before me
then gone again.
Into memory from experience.
Standing on our old campsite
looking north to the point,
Am I really here, in the now?
Memories are so strong
they overtake the moment.
Lake of Deep Waters
Tall white pines
fluttering poplar leaves
clucking birds and
rustling chipmunks.
The smell of hot, sun-warmed
pine needles
spicy labrador tea
damp moss cushions.
Tree roots snaking along
rock crevasses.
Incredible blue sky
and bluer water.
Rock domes.
Rock forever, from forever
weathered and cracked.
The harmonic roar of
float plane take-offs.
The sound of motorboats
slamming of outhouse doors
crackle of tires and feet
on gravel.
The slap of waves
against the dock
Emily’s ha-a-a-ha, ha-a-a-ha
answering loon call.
Trucks down shifting
for the bend in the road.