And the Fishes Flew

Not a house or friend I knew within my ken, within my view,

While having a cigarette at a roadside bench as I stopped to rest

From miles and miles of travel, destination somewhere west,

Near a sheltered, mountain lake of clearest glass-like crystal hue

Wherein wild geese made love and seemingly the fishes flew.

 

Being bolder, somewhat older, trespassed, sat on the shoulder

On a granite shore-side boulder. Thought I, who owns this place?

Could let nature take it over? Who could stop the modern race

To build parking lots and pave them over, making lives so much colder?

Would take a person of raw strength and courage, one much bolder.

 

I removed my socks and shoes, bared my toes and tried the water

As children do in summer heat. Was cold at first then pleasant, warm.

Picked flat pebbles from the shore and skipped them in that early morn

On lake-top clear as did my daughter as I showed her, as I once taught her.

As one time we, near crystal water, laughed as I chased and as I caught her.

 

My reverie over. Put on my socks and shoes. Walked in the morning dew

Back to my car, back to a journey that would take me far away that day.

Back to a life of travel, back to a life of journey through to pay my way.

I’ll remember that quiet mountain lake of clearest glass-like crystal hue

Wherein wild geese made love and seemingly the fishes flew.