Dock Pulled From the Lake

Dock Pulled From the Lake

It’s fall – work done awaiting the wind, snow, cold
All that leveling last spring – slow, ponderous, perfect
Rakish on the hillside now leaning against the chocks
Tires old, bald, often flat, held it for the slow ride out of the water
Dark green becoming pale and gray
Scaly scum drying in the sun
Ice can’t reach the spindly legs bent one year
Leaves will gather beneath blown into sheltered hiding
Summer’s sights and sounds brought life to the dock
Children laughing, planks clattering, boats bumping, lifts clicking
Worms, bobbers, hooks, lines – casting, watching, waiting
Late afternoons – chairs,  glasses of wine, binoculars
Thousands of acres of lake with no movement except the waves
The loon a favorite regular – used to be shy – magnificent beauty
Eagles must know when we’re not watching – a shadow, a glimpse, a whoosh
Large bass love the dock’s dark seclusion – they just sit
An occasional boat glides by, silver lines flicking into the shallows
Huge motor tipped, silent, pulled by tiny electric motor
At night one feels suspended over the dark stillness
Moon, stars, planets, the Milky Way – a hum from the town’s distant glow

© 2011 Thomas W. Cummins

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5 Responses to “Dock Pulled From the Lake”

  1. Tom Says:

    Reblogged this on In a dim light… and commented:

    A reprise posting on this day in late September when the dock has been, once again, pulled from the lake.

  2. maskednative Says:

    Past and present pulled from the lake, sometimes camouflaged in mist, revealed in the bright sunlight of clear thinking. Very glad to read this today Tom, thank you.

  3. Tom Says:

    Teri: It is about presence, isn’t it? In your recent post, you said: “His song enters through the open door of my bedroom, bringing a pause to my bed-making, … ” There it is, awareness, gratitude.

    If I can stay present, I am happy, content. But my unattentive mind wanders into the murky waters of an irreparable past or into the blurry, incoherent and oft threatening future.

    Here at the lake for fall closing, there is healing space. So much to be done as the colorful fall flees the approaching winds of winter.

    This place takes me out of myself and heightens my appreaciation of the “still point” that is always there amidst endless activity and toil. I become more mindful of our call to co-creation. To make present the divine presence.

    Thanks. as always, for your comments.

    • maskednative Says:

      Your lake sounds wonderful Tom. Your healing space, somewhere to be still, to listen, to watch and feel the presence of God in all things, and sometimes, when we’re not expecting it, that presence comes right at us, stops us in our tracks, how amazing that is, how grateful I am for that interruption. Thank you for remembering the words from my previous post, you bring another pause to my day.

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