I wrote this to submit to Phyllis and Gloria’s new anthology (due soon!) on the Mindfulness of Aging. Gloria and Phyllis are asking for first-person, narrative poems that make folks feel good about aging. I also think this poem fits with the music assigned for my Midsummer Music poem. Phyllis is fine with previously published for her anthology (If I use it for Midsummer Music, which is a limited audience). This reflects our day last Tuesday, kayaking north of Shawano Lake on a small, quiet lake. It was a jackpot day of wildlife watching. There was also a green Heron fishing, which I took out. I like my last line, (I began with that in mind) .but am not sure it’s strong enough. For Phyllis, it can be no longer than 30 lines. This is 26…but 28 with title and the space between. I had it in stanzas of 4 lines each, but the breaks weren’t right.
Outside of Time
No Older This Morning
75 and Alive
Where Time Pauses
I step into my kayak
on the morning-glazed lake,
slip into the worn seat,
feet braced, knees soft.
The paddle slices through unbroken water,
my torso moves with pull and push.
I pass loosestrife and arrowroot.
Wild iris wave their violet flags.
Even the water waits;
only droplets from the paddle stir the silence.
White lilies tilt toward sun.
Yellow pond lilies clench
tight fists above green pads.
In a lone pine crowned with a nest,
an osprey feeds its chick
ribbons of torn fish.
Her mate lands with precision,
his wings fold to nestle in.
Loons call across the water,
a sound older than time.
One dives, comes up with a flash
of silver in its beak,
a minnow passed to her waiting chick.
I paddle forward
as time rolls back in the kayak.
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7/23/2025 Final edit (Maybe)—I think it’s ready to send. I keep doubting myself…aagh! I wanted it to have a message at the end. The music I listened to was calm, with one movement a bit more animated, and sounded like birds.
Poem for Midsummer Music:
Here’s my preface for when I read it: In music, we measure time — in beats, pauses, or in movement. That’s what this poem became for me: a meditation in time, shaped by water, light, and the peaceful rhythms of the natural world.
Meditation in Time
On the morning-glazed lake,
I step into my kayak,
slip into the worn seat,
feet braced, knees soft.
The paddle arcs through unbroken water,
my torso swings with the cadence
of each pull and push.
I want to know the music of this water
to forget the dissonance of this world
if only for a little while.
I paddle legato through loosestrife and arrowroot.
Wild iris wave their violet batons.
Water droplets from my paddle
are prelude to silence.
White lilies tune toward the sun.
Bright yellow pond blossoms
sway above green pads.
In a lone pine crowned with a nest,
an osprey feeds her chick ribbons of torn fish.
Her mate lands with grace,
his wings fold to join their duet.
I paddle forward in rhythm,
while time rolls back in my kayak.
Loons echo across the lake,
their voices older than time.
Their haunting call draws me in.
I secretly watch their two offspring;
the female lifts a wing to push
one baby up on her back.
For now, they are safe.
I wish it were so
for everyone, everywhere.