Choppy Water

A few ambitious branches glow
burnt umber, crimson and a
golden shade seen on parrots

We paddle through choppy water

Most trees lining the shore cling
to late August greens, dull and
forlorn as summer winds to an end

We paddle through choppy water

Our canoe is heavy with camping things
And firewood, for flames and pondering

We paddle through choppy water

A lone loon flies low
Parallel to the water’s surface
A precise, effortless distance
There is no flapping, simply
Levitation with forward motion
Isn’t that magic?

We paddle through choppy water

Now, an island’s fancy greeting
A rocky shore with full moon rising
Laying a glistening water runway
Bathing our canoe in moonlight

A tent, an island, a sweet retreat

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