The little cabin sat on a grassy hill,
poplars, aspen, white pines surrounded it,
overlooking a lake, trees everywhere
not another soul in sight.
Kerosene lamps were abundant
in the evening they were lit,
while the nightly poker game was played.
I sat next to the screen listening,
to crickets, frogs all the night noises,
looking out into the dark, the stars, the shadows.
Morning light would wake me,
sunrise, I'd walk down to the dock.
Watching as the fish would jump,
the turtle heads would stick up,
the lily pads extended out into the lake.
I thought they were inspiration
wishing I could walk on each one,
I didn't fish I just imagined.
All the while waiting for the others to wake
so they could bait my rod.