By Bill Fryer
Sliding silently into the murky pond
my wooden paddle breaks the glass
pushing ripples, gurgling softly, surging
the kayak towards the cabin on the point
nestled among the pointed firs
emerging from the morning mist.
Past a lonely, weathered dock
waiting patiently on crooked
greasy green slime-covered legs,
shadows of fish, lurking furtively
as the far-away loon hoots,
as a hazy sun peeks with anticipation
over the blackened hulk of the mountain.
I feel my stomach growl.
Smells like fresh-cut grass
as I push through the lily pads.
I’m startled as a great heron descends
gliding to his perch on a half-submerged
dried needleless spruce sapling
to resume his silent, wary vigil.
My reel whirs, worm and bobber
plop near a lone turtle sitting silently
on an algae-coated rock. A dragonfly
alights on the end of my pole
joining our community of morning lake life
we share at this moment.
I think of the fish slithering
beneath our loud silence.
For more information about Lake Chapala visit: www.chapala.com