Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Morning At Babine Lake

I followed a narrow leaf-strewn trail
Down from my campsite at Babine Lake
To the placid water’s edge.

The lake covered its secrets like a mirror,
Smooth multi-colored stones cobbled its shallows.
Birds warbbled and gossiped in busy cacauphony,
A flicker rattled a tree trunk, a grouse drummed his passion,
A trout lept with a splash, loons sailed fishing by,
A moment of reverence,
One met me eye to eye and flew,
Wings beating in labourious panic,

Moments of meditative silence,
Nearby, a quiet family of ducks,
Peacefulness torn remotely at distant edges
Like mist when
Somewhere a squirrel scolded,

I sat on a gnarled root at the foot of a great life,
A cottonwood tree, very still, growing there,
A gnarled man, a poet watching God’s world
From a window in his poem

Life is for moments like this,
Thoughts leaning branches,
Reflections undulating upon gentle

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