Long Lake: Three First Impressions

This post is the first of the Small Noticings series, started here

I have spent no time on lakes, I realize when I'm talking to my mom on the phone, and they make me uneasy. When the wind blows and all the water rushes south, I can't figure out where it goes. It seems to be an endless flow and yet the lake has a tight limit, the grass and birches holding it in. Sun-warmed on top, wind stirred, what is in the lake can't hide in the marsh grass long. A turtle head in the distance. A loon call over the lake. One moment at a time, I'm trying to be at peace with this finity and yet murk.


Long Lake: Three First Impressions

first break in a melon

is the smell i took
an hour to recall
the melted water
as our paddles
slice into it.

air traffic

a loon lands slowly
his low angle
gliding like wheels
still off the runway
then pang of white
under his wings
settles into the black
of the evening. Moon
glow his beacon home.

wind chimes

stone on sweet metal,
the sound, uncertain
days ago, reminds me
now I have not sunk,
the buoy above me still,
metal sounding out
the silent wind. 

Will be sharing more tomorrow!