|Where are you, right now? |
Sitting in front of your computer at the kitchen table?
Sipping coffee? Looking out your window?
|Magic happens every spring and we rush to this spot, to watch it happen.|
Ice melts, sun shines, fish bite.
No one else in this world, this northern mystic, this land of silver birch.
Reflections of our own faces
the only ones we see.
|"Hello, Mr. Lake Trout. How have you been?|
Did you have a busy winter?
Was Santa Claus good to you?
How are the eggs? Did they all hatch out?
No worries, fishy friend, we just wanted to chat."
And, sploosh, back into the water he goes.
|I wish you were here. |
I wish we could argue over whose fish was bigger.
(It was mine, by a scale.)
I wish we could make s'mores tonight by the fire.
I wish you were with me.