I sit by bedpost,
See small flat-bottomed boat.
Dream movie star blue skies.
Water, a deep liquid green,
Luke warm to the touch.

Lines cast,
This little pirogue floats purposefully.
Polled across the sun-stroked surface,
Then let loose to drift,
To spin in lazy circles.

Egrets and herons swim overhead.
An upstart breeze shifts impatiently.
The dragonfly darts back and forth,
Invisible thread in tiny hands,
Attempting to sew another seam.

And the clouds above
Parade. And I,
I drift across this rippling waterway.
Feel the pull of current
As this pleasant vision carries me,
Along with pole and tackle,
Back to days gone by
And a dozen other outdoor revelries.

Transports the fisherman
To the lake’s distant hidden edge
And an overhang of gangly trees.
And the shade,
The shade,
From that, oh so slowly setting sun,
A most welcome reprieve.

Line cast,
Bobber dips and a quick tug,
Snagging another mid-summer memory.




Michael S. True
6/24/14