After a long day on the steering
end of her old canoe, when the
only light shimmering on the lake
was the vanilla moon of late July.
Her friends slept in the tent
they struggle to erect that day
on Mile Island.
The camp fire smoldered,
crickets sang
while fireflies played
in the nearby bush.
Gingerly balancing herself, barefoot,
over the slippery surface of the crag
along the lake shore.
Slipping off her clothing,
sliding quietly into the dark depths.
She swam naked with the Buck moon.
May I say that you have acheived your goal wonderfully...your poems are very beautiful! -Rick
Thank you so much Edmund that is my goal... to make you see it. Joyce
Ah, so many memories come from this one....I enjoyed your depiction...much!
Duncan and Phillip thank you both so much... this is a true story. The island was in the middle of Fall Lake in Minnesota, a bunch of us went there for my birthday every year when I was a teen. We rented a canoes at the outfitters and paddled to Mile Island. My Birthday is mid July Joyce
Dear Joyce, You have a lithe presence in your writing that calls to me, calls to those who love the raw beauty in this world. Keep doing what you are doing. phillip
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh my goodness! ! ! , what a beautiful image of a lovely lady under a vanilla moon captured by the longing waters of her grace, You are a fine poet Joyce and you have lots to be proud of, Love duncan