Original DDE™ art: “Dawn Porch” — by: rob kistner © 12/25/25
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the porch gathers gently
the last of the day
around the quieting lake—
boats tick softly against their moorings—
lake light loosening toward night
dad and I
sit cleaning our gear
without hurry—
allowing that day’s successful catch
to settle into our weary frames
rustling north woods birch
ring tight the lake—
pale and still
…excited by the breeze
—their reflections
broken by gentle ripple—
winds on the water
above them — the sky opens—
sudden currents of color
begin to wash overhead—
…emerald
…neon jade
…phosphor green
…rose
…crimson
…arctic blue
…violet
…silver
the sky is afire
even aware it’s up there
the vaporous bloom
of the Aurora Borealis
always catches us off guard—
each time a glorious surprise
turning from the gaze skyward
we begin reflecting
on tonight’s return
to our cabin—
the narrow channel
from our neighboring lake—
water too shallow for speed—
the depth demanding attention
…ice age boulders
…submerged logs
…hidden bottom stumps
have shut down
many a fishing trip
sadly premature—
shearing a prop mercilessly
great care
and a damned sharp eye—
in tangent with a free oar
are the tasks of the crossing
respect the portage both ways
dad would explain
and it will grant you passage
this day we made it—
…we anchored
…we drifted
…we trolled
—we fished
…but not the big ong
the boat breathed peacefully
safely carrying us dawn to dusk
but soon night would arrive
precisely on time
so we’d head for home dock
and our beloved porch
as we gratefully approached
dusk was settling peacefully
on our snug cabin
moored boats
would soon be rocking—
bumping impatient—
the lake hushes itself around them
we’d wipe down rods
as we loosened and stored reels—
listening to the eerie calls
of the canadian lake loons
hands still warm
with the day’s work—
hearts still warm with the joy
white birch lined the far shore
standing quietly
listening
and above them—
the giant star-filled sky
continues its slow colorful drift
the magical aurora
lifting again—
like a brisk breath
through needles and leaves
talk about tomorrow
would begin
in hushed excitement and wonder—
we’d reflect once again
on the narrow way through—
on the shallow water
that won’t forgive haste—
on the careful portage ahead
…not as worry
…just remembering—
knowing
the night agrees to hold us
boats and plans
bobbing in the northern lights—
canada settling in
while the cabin warms
and sooths us—
and waits—
a patient wait quietly earned
like these wonderful memories—
…of those days
…of that magic
…of that place
…of all of it
of my precious dad
to talk with him
just one more time—
but there is no portage
by which to reach him — yet
<~>
rob kistner © 12/25/25