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So silent is the morn that glides before me
In quiet, the paddle slices through this mirrored picture
Ghosts the boat into the black waters while longing me forward
In motion and yet at rest, in this beauty of painted land
And so I start the journey along the familiar shore.
A travel unknown but for the solitary sandpiper
Who stirs from stone to stone to mark the shoreward way
My eyes dance with the romance so reflected in the water
As majestic creatures wrapped in emerald mingle their reflective branches
Upon the waters I so travel.
The silence of the land stirs the soul without cadence
As it caresses the rhythmic burble of the paddle
A sole jay on some hidden perch
Sees my passage and brashly calls my heart
But I am lost to this wild of senses.
Ageless rock ascends from resting waters
And bathes my eyes with lichen splashes
The morning breath of that distant star
Touches my cheeks with its warm blush
To be mortal, to be so blessed
To feel this passion and to savor this love.
To start the travel homeward
In blissful communion, ever so holy
I feel but another day so tempts my soul
And so again may I start the morning.
By Dave
( following a morning paddle on the Ottawa River)
