A SONG FROM ECONOMY LAKE long poem
by Richard L. Provencher A Song From Economy Lake Upon the water is a sprinkling of green. And from a distance the island does appear Insignificant yet mysterious drawing attention should any visiting canoe whisper by. It pokes out from Economy Lake. A finger of rock lined with trees creating an irregular border of private space. An unnoticed sanctuary for birds and animals with plenty of trees. Standing on the mainland it appears abandoned or even adrift from the closeness of shore. As near as the sky earth water with some secrecy and character of its own. The island prepares a story to be retold once and again. When twilight creeps towards daylight we enter this domain. Now pay attention to an ancient song: It begins with an eerie whistle from a restless wind curving and twisting throughout the trees. Proud and thick with branches they act as mothers to fir and feather. They provide numerous sanctuaries as windy puffs twirl and tremble on the tiny island where fallen pine needles restlessly toss back and forth seeking a better place in which to settle. They mix well in their dance from one depression in the earth to another. Then a finale a cozy resting place gathers them in. From here they prepare to take root and await rain's nourishment. Tomorrow the sun will stroke this fertile space creating new sprouts of life other sounds begin a march from earth to darkening sky. Silent paths of furry feet matching a cautious movement of wings. Branches groan quietly as a feathery weight settles upon the security of a tall pine surrounding itself with wind. Nighttime arrives as a smothering blanket and removes tardy sparks of evening light. And a yoke of flickering glow signals its triumphant farewell pink and mottled blue mingling within the framework of island and sky. A hint of red lingers as a night kiss. Night covers are quilted shadows. Trees are proud soldiers as picturesque statues aside the shore and soon the land is an overlap of silhouettes with a hint of remembrance upon the lake now silent. After evening's light the island mass appears to have disappeared. A closer look reveals its true fate with activity taking place. Waves quietly "shush" aside the shore. Cowlicks of white are cresting crowns of movement rising up, up and down and we admire their rippled-froth more like spies in the moonlight. As if on cue sound is halted. Also feral movements pause from an interruption piercing the night-life. "AAH-OOH-AAH-OOH-AAH" is an escaping moan from a nearby loon. He claims this island as his own with a serenade that repeats in ascending waves ancient steps hurrying to the brocade of a starry sky an eruption of magnificent sound continuing to rise and fall as a whisper of flight. It enters the sparsely forested area in a symphony of esteem and glides in royal assent around the outskirts of the island. This magical flute heralds the beginning of normal night activities. Trees tremble. Limbs crackle from a hesitating of paw and hoof. And the first evening hunt concludes with a strident flap of wings muffling an agony of alarm barely heard above the stillness. Flashing pinpricks of light soon blink in random procession calling from one clump of brush to another. Fireflies acting as beacons seeking to be captured. An answering ember responds with spirals of activity more like a hurrying candle of emotion. They flicker in patterns creating an atmosphere of friendliness while clouds gather in lazy swirls piled as bunched-up marshmallows above the island. The moon peeks through these crowded white puffs beaming a path to an island inlet where ecstasy reigns. That oval outline is a face of wonder creating a bond with its gaze of curiosity. During an earlier period this island erupted as as a flowering surge from beneath Economy lake. Earth and sky became brothers in the happening. In a symphony of awe the wind now raises its voice creating vibrant tunes throughout trees escaping into the memory of time while waves increase to strength and height. Trees sway in delight. Limbs scrape together in kinship and fond discovery. Movements within the island continue their dance. Stars shelter the island's 'pot-pourri' of activity. A dazzling glory draws warmth from the island and returns a brilliance that provides night's illumination. Diamond-like sprinkling is a gift that penetrates the very core of the island's rock bed of strength. The night rises and falls as each new wonder manifests itself. Time is measured in the softness of the moss and gift of velvet coating. Its sweeping ferns parade forward as wave after cresting wave provides a flagship of pride. Without warning the dark is like a fading comet. Its sliver of morning sun signals sleep and tired forest and creatures obey. Richard L. Provencher 2009 All Rights Reserved Richard enjoys writing poems; many of which have been published in Print and Online. He and his wife, Esther are also co-authors of stories and a print novel. They are "born again" Christians and very busy in their church, Abundant Life Victory International, in Bible Hill, Nova Scotia. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |
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