ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Poems & Poetry

Morning on Aylen Lake

Updated on March 15, 2013
Aylen River, Ontario, Canada
Aylen River, Ontario, Canada

Lark laughter wakes me. I
take pole, worm cup, and
memories to the red canvas
canoe, sit on hand-woven leather
seats that held familial buttocks,

grip shellacked paddle smoothed by
ancestral hands, and pull away
from the shore. Layers of
mist yawn up, part, belly-dance,
shuffle by; chimney smoke, pine

Aylen Lake, Ontario, Canada
Aylen Lake, Ontario, Canada

winds, and the biting cold
fill my lungs; the paddle
drip-drips, and water trickles under
the keel, pine needles surfing
our wake over blue-green glass,

over a sketch of horizontal
ripples, over a canvas done
in earth-tone oils toward a
gray rock island anchored by
pine trees hiding the sunrise,

Aylen Lake, Ontario, Canada
Aylen Lake, Ontario, Canada

shadowing the shore, guarding the
bass I will catch for
breakfast—if I decide to
get there ... if we decide
to stop there at all.

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • multiculturalsoul profile image
      Author

      JJ Murray 4 years ago from Roanoke, Virginia

      Brisk is right. That lake freezes six feet thick in the winter, and even summer mornings were cold. There's something just better about catching your own breakfast--or not. Some of the most peaceful moments I've ever had have come in that old, leaky canoe.

    • kj force profile image

      kjforce 4 years ago from Florida

      multiculturalsoul...well written words painting the brisk morning and your state of mind....hmm interesting...