Song of The Land

The lake surface is ruffled

By the wind that whispers in my ear

The La Cloche Mountains Covered in mist

As I dip my paddle

Into the translucent waters

A raven in a tall skeleton of a  birch tree

Voices his displeasure at my intrusion

With each stroke of the paddle

The canoe glides  through the waters

A common loon quietly appears

Her baby astride her back

Soon to be lost in the distance

As I paddle my canoe in the morning stillness

The mist is lifting

The La Cloche Mountains now visable

Covered in the warm glow of early morning sunlight

The isles appear ahead

Just now emerging from the darkness of night

A flock of ducks skim the water’s surface

To disappear in a nearby bay

The sun is up

The sky is blue

Bringing forth a new day

As I listen to the song of the land

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