Three Mile Lake
As surrender feeds the water
after a great storm,
the bruised red boat let the waves board
and the current take it greedily.
It bobbed like an apple
in a gray green pond. The child stared
from where he launched his toy,
watching it drift beyond reach.
No child’s tears, pleading prayers,
promises or bribes could entice the hour
to turn the moment back,
returning to a young boy's joy
when he first knelt,
surrendering his heart’s soul
to the mist and times deception.
On this park bench early
in my farewell afternoon,
I sit and watch as a mother
lifts her child up
whispering into his ear
what only experience teaches.
All flesh plays for a season
before it crackles and snaps.
What we desire swells in us,
eating us alive.
Mind wanders from the red boat
into the tangled flotsam of myself,
tracking my moments passing
folding me within the waves
of itself as I think
how happy are they gifted with
their own forgetfulness
who sail with the courage of acceptance
through the current's frenzy.
Scott Malby
Posted over on Hawkwind Creations
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