Mattatall, the Lake

Natural pulses straddle
my excitement, as a cherry
wood paddle
pursues the current

canoe accepting
motivation,
wind pouting its resistance.

I am a silhouette
lurking by water's edge
or a loon’s accolade
where begins a morning song

perhaps simply a feast
of early sun, yoke
alive in life’s surging

a blend, a parallel
from the land to heights
unknown.

© Richard L. Provencher

Published May 2010
Issue V111, Volume 11
Connotation Press