Between the fog and the damn fir
that stood wider than a house,
there was no way to enjoy
the colours of the crisp night.
If I were to have a chance,
I knew I’d need concrete
to build an anchor in the lake,
two by tens of some kind of wood,
and rope so the dock would not float
away from me every day.
This is how I spent my days
working under the sun and spray
until my final time there had come.
I went to the nearest canteen
and bought what I could find there:
a turkey sandwich and coffee,
and a book they had on the shelf.
A hush slept over the lake
as a single moonbeam cut
through the fog to light the words.