Lake Muskoka Poem by L C Vieira

On our Lake Muskoka dinner cruise,
no sunset in sight,
I pause to let another raindropp splash,
my only tent, the one of clouds,
unsmiling grey
above a moustache of dirty green
on the face of this patient lake.

Summer invasion and celebrations,
movie money chopping trees
to build a forest set -
unsuccessfully.

Lake view prices going up while I go
down under with those safely dry
and hungry for the standard roast
and serenade to the tapping rain -
Frank Sinatra,
still younger than some places here.

The tour voice breaks the hum -
'…millionaires' row' - Virginia,
Pennsylvania, the California family
and five million spent with three boat houses.

I pause, roast mid-air to look again -

and once more think of something far away,
a lonely forest land, quiet lake
where I can swim unnoticed.
no gowns, no makeup, just bugs and birds.

A flutter, a buzz through playful leaves, touches me.
I shake my head on my third coffee.
'The Age of Aquarius, ' mixes with families' chatter.

'…there's the Sunshine, ' and we have none
but the flickering on the water.
No star in the sky
except from Americans buying up land,
around the one Canadian flag still blowing in the wind.

(2003, Revised 2012)