This is my entry for the Writers Block Poetry Contest. You can find more information here.
Sitting on the edge of the pier,
Weathering boards underneath me,
Tickling the surface of the lake with my toes,
My reflection lingers as the ripples disturb the image,
The floor of the lake is undisturbed,
Showing the life that lies underneath the glossy surface,
To my side sits the canoe I occupied,
Before slate clouds rushed me to shore,
So I sit on the creaking dock,
My mind wandering off in the heat,
Focusing on the decaying rope,
Attached to the long vessel,
Time feels as though it has stopped,
Minute hands struggle to move forward,
Caught up in the motion of the water,
Warm sweat drips from my sunkissed skin,
Freckles dotting the top of my nose and shoulders,
Willow trees that border the lake,
Offer no relief from the heat,
But the monotone clouds promise rain,
A nice cooling in the middle of the day,
My nose can smell the sweet nectar of the storm,
As I study the horizon,
Small ripples dot the water’s surface in a rhythmic pattern,
My head tilts back as I let the droplets hit my face,
Cooling my skin with a chilling earthly blanket,
Small fish smack the water’s surface,
Sucking up bugs knocked down by the drops,
Beyond the sound of the rain slapping the lake,
Leaves on the willows shiver and shake,
Rain ceases as the tiny storm cloud passes,
Climbing back in the apple red canoe,
I set back out across the lake,
Heading home.
