.
.
our paddles dip
silently into the black.
evening mist hovers
over the lake
as we glide near the shore.
otters playfully cruise nearby,
raccoons timidly drink,
deer watch
.
later
a camp fire
to ward off the chill
of the northern breeze.
time to cuddle close,
whisper secrets
even though
we’re alone
.
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Oops, the paddle’s dip into the water…. Delicious.
https://jotraveller.wordpress.com/2015/06/08/coming-up-from-within/
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I love the way you described the paddle
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I love this poem, love how the simplicity of the imagery evokes the complexity of emotion. I love the ending and the sense of the dichotomy..you are alone but still choose to whisper. This is such a beautiful piece.
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Spring and summer at the lake. I remember it well. #ThrowbackThursday Backatcha:
http://randomstoryteller.com/2014/06/27/summer-trout/
A short homage to summer trout . . .
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Reblogged this on Musings from a deranged mind…(?).
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Fond memories of my well-spent youth!
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