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
In a dim light... 
September 28, 2014 at 5:40 pm |
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.
September 29, 2014 at 2:35 am |
p.s. Your writing always has a wonderful sense of presence, a soothing calm.
September 29, 2014 at 2:32 am |
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.
September 29, 2014 at 8:38 am |
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.
September 29, 2014 at 9:54 am |
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.