|Ciepliks photo of Pipestone Bay|
seeking fish, seeking solitude, seeking grace.
Now they come flying back, racing the darkness
leaving widening Vs behind them
watched by the Evening Star
The lake and the sky meld together
The boats skim the heavens as easily as the water
They give wide berths to islands of dark matter
and search the horizon for silver openings,
trails that lead them vaguely onward
The path flows narrower and narrower
twisting through a blackness that crowds in everywhere but ahead
Suddenly there springs the lights of camp
A mother calling her children in.
They have made it home.
|Vic Fazekas photo of Bow Narrows camp|
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