
A moving portrait, stirring all the senses.
Boats briefly add base tones,
While kayaks kiss gentle lake waves silently.
Rhythmic, lapping water, like lullabies, emanate,
Lake sings sonatas. Loons yodel arias.
Whispering trees play muffled snares in accompaniment.
Glacial mountains are the backdrop
Of a moving, breathing, vital landscape,
Where life transforms magically, into living art.
Rustic cabins, family ‘Camps’, and boathouses,
Old and new, planks and logs, red, brown, pine-colored,
Frame the shore like a picturesque needlepoint.
The Adirondack high peaks trap pillowy clouds and welcome hikers
To a sacred place where black bear and deer roam freely.
All the families, the generations, the traditions here,
Weave the wonderment of it, the ‘forever-ness’ of it,
“God’s Country” fulfills its ancient destiny year after year,
It is the Brigadoon of our hearts and dreams,
And by it, we are supremely blessed.
Poetry: Can We But Live
And arrow-peaks of infant conifers emerging from cold earth,
Rebirth and change, in their pristine delicacy, their exquisite bond,
Clean dried scales from tired eyes too long clouded,
While staunching tears too freshly spilled,
All, in an undisclosed and ever-changing plan.