Fishing Hole

The water is crystal clear

and almost emerald green,

Foliage growing to its banks,

the lushest ever seen.

It is a favorite fishing hole

known by just a few,

Accessed by a hidden trail,

of  which most have no clue.

It is a pond of silent dreams,

Gentle imagery divine.

A place where I can meditate,

It's almost like a shrine.

I am lost in idle revelry

with my back against a tree.

Thoughts have no agenda.

My spirit's soaring free.

Fishing line in the water,

Boots lay beside the bank,

Legs are slightly crossed,

Feet resting on a plank.

Ears drink in the music,

rhythmic lapping of the waves,

Accompanied by songbirds,

voicing harmony loud and brave.

Thick forest scents surround me

birthing images of each.

Cotton clouds like powder puffs

that float just out of reach.

Peak of hat below my eyes,

head slightly bent to chest,

Arms folded across my waist,

all worries put to rest.

You ask if I'm a fisherman,

to be so lay-back, without care,

The fish are just a bonus,

I'm here for musing and fresh air.

The Hunt

I stalked you long and with great care,

Stepping softly on ground that's bare.

Tracks I followed deep and clear,

Finally found you, eight-point deer.

You test the winds before you bow,

Sweeping the antlers on your brow,

To dig the tender roots and seed,

Exposing them for you to feed.

Slowly bringing my sights to bear,

I see you look at me and stare.

Eyes are fixed and nostrils wide,

I know you wish a place to hide.

I squeeze the trigger slow and true,

And take a picture of gentle you.

Eagle's Reign

Your visage speaks of royalty,

Noble stance and glare.

True majesty is in your flight,

Grace beyond compare.

Riding high the softest breeze,

King of your domain.

The heavens cradled on your back,

Circling your reign.

Oh how I envy your free spirit,

Places that you roam,

Sights you witness along your path,

Mountains you call home.

Natives held you as a God,

Mascot of their band.

I hold you a masterpiece,

Crafted by His hand.

Devil's Rock

There is a place of beauty

Of which many people talk

High above Lake Timiskaming,

Its name is Devil's Rock.

I don't know how it got its name,

It's a mystery to me.

Looking at this wondrous site,

There's no evil it's plain to see.

A majestic mountain outcrop

Pressed from earth's entrails

Standing tall above the lake

Has written many tales.

Miners have explored its base,

Drilled deep within its core,

Hoping to find a silver vein

In their ever search for more.

Climbers will test their skill

Ascending her fractured face,

Never sure if it is safe,

Great danger they embrace.

Seasons have chipped away

At its visage of broken rock.

Ice buildup each winter

Spreads fractures in large blocks

Ready to slip and fall in chunks

That could weigh many ton.

One wrong move on their part

Would mean an end to their fun.

A platform on its highest peak

Heralds all islands into view,

Mirrored in the evening's calm

On waters clear and blue.

The gentle breeze atop its crown

Will caress you and console.

A picture of such rich artistry,

It will calm your very soul.

I see it as an awesome scene,

Painted by God's hand.

A tribute of nature's power,

Like a trophy it does stand.

Just another pile of rock to those

Whom its beauty, cannot see,

A place of power and majesty for those

Whose spirits are set free.