The lake is a place to be with friends
Having a nap
Making love to an apparition
The lake is a place where you remember tragedies
Your own and those of others
Little sisters of brothers who came later
And mothers Down Under
The lake is a place where you make love
To a dream turned nightmare
Woodsy woman in a robe of autumn leaves
Children hidden under there
The lake is a place
To bake a cake
Company’s coming!
Goodness sake!
Visitor frenzy!
Woman I knew
Walking slow
On snow that’s new
I reach out to touch her face
Suddenly gone that autumn gown
Gone with not a single trace
Almost five, sun’s goin’ down
Back and forth ‘cross the lake she drifts
Then winter swallows her
Nevermore to be, just mist
Rising from a patch of open water
The lake is a place where you wake from your sleep
As friends leave the cabin, pair by pair
For a walk in the woods
Or along the lakeshore there
This was written the last weekend before I came to CityTeam. Lloyd and Kathy Penner, Pam and Gord Moore and I in a cabin beside a frozen lake in Ontario.
Beautiful winter days, cold, sun shining, casting long shadows over the frozen lake.
This is leap year, the 4th anniversary of Diane’s death. She died
February 29, 2004. Death by drowning in the undertow of the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Guatemala.
When Diane was still here, before she disappeared into the past
We six good friends went on many excursions
-some by lakes
-some by rivers
-some by streams
-some in dreams
Six people lying in the grass, looking up and finding castles in the clouds.
Now just five.
February 5, 2008