I remember the wind in my hair

riding my Schwinn down the hill to

the Lake….

Summer, so long on fun

so carefree and abundant.

Our easement had a lock

and rack full of canoes (one of them Mine!)

and a dock with a slide and a diving board.

Next door was the fancier Country Club version, but I preferred our humble piece

of the Lake.

With my friends, we would lift the canoe

into the water

and paddle as Huck Finn

on back bay adventures,

carrying it over shallow rocky inlets.

Later, my friends

were old enough to pilot

their parents’ boats.

We inner tubed and water skied

and generally cruised

the Lake.

(Watch out for the Lake Patrol!)

As I grew older,

we began to make fun of the lake…

it’s smell, it’s algae blooms,

the human wealth

upon it’s shores.

But we still enjoyed it’s bounty.

In wintertime, I went there alone

writing poems

to the sound of water lapping

upon the dock.

I remember the Lake

it’s welcoming cool depth,

it’s freedom and adventure.

For this

I am grateful.