My boat rests in the middle of the lake,
Rocking me to sleep in the quiet day.
Soft rolling waves soothe the dull ache,
Dissolving all the pain of yesterday.

I gaze at the shapes the white clouds make,
Before the silent wind sweeps them away,
Wondering what it would take
To lift me up and carry me away.

My hand dips into the water below,
Painting a new reflection of the sky.
A symphony of crickets bids me to go
From the warm quilted place I lie.

I wait a moment to hear it grow
And feel the tip of the bow give with a sigh
As I cradle it between each toe
Just before the dive.

I twirl and glide through silk to shore
Leaving my dear boat behind.
Ahead I know there is something more
Than ever I imagined in my green mind.

My feet touch the grassy floor
To feel the contours they can find
Then jump to reach toward my floating oar
Kicking and pushing to the other side.

My lungs again are filled with air
And I fasten my oar with string to my hand.
It skims the surface beside my drifting hair
As I push with frog legs back to land.

I lean the oar against the crooked stair,
My boat still cradled in the lake’s hand.
There was no other way but to leave it there,
Holding the yesteryear.

With one farewell glance, I turn to see
The faithful cabin that stands ahead.
It has been waiting all this time just for me,
Keeping a place to rest my head.

A place of refuge between the trees,
It promises, too, that I will be led
To grand things that are yet to be
A wondrous future to dream from my bed.