Deep in the Northwoods, where mosquitoes swarm in flocks and pine trees try to tickle the clouds with their needles,
I sit in stillness at the end of the dock, feeling the warm coffee cup in my hands.
Sun rays angle through the surface of the lake, revealing a glimpse into an underworld where I am a stranger...
Pools of fish smaller than my hand interweave
among each other, looking for tiny floating particles for their
morning snack. Stems from each individual
lily pad snake their way
to the mossy bottom. Mother goose and her goslings’
webbed feet frantically paddle and press.
I peer into the clear, crystal water as if I am looking into the front window of a neighbor’s house, clandestinely observing their daily life.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize that there is so much I have never seen and don’t know about this watery world.
I submerge a foot noticing the buoyant coolness while my dog paws the water, pretending to be a great wolf hunter.
Later my dog and I fully immerse ourselves,
diving deep into the mystery of this land.
But no matter how long I hold my breath, in the end, I must lift my body into the world above and turn my head for air.