Water Trail
This poem is from Ed Keenan,
author & cowboy poet
 

Inspiring—Barrett Lake is nestled in the mountains of eastern San Diego County, not far from Tecate, Mexico. The remote 800-acre lake is deep and picturesque, with huge boulders and cliffs and tree snags, along miles of rustic shoreline. It is absolutely ideal for water trail kayaking. Thus a poem is born. 

Slipping my kayak down the embankment
I take a water trail this early evening,
my own trail along the lakeside shore
grazing on the sun-bright waters,
the sky a dome of pale plum
and a gentle breeze of soft exhalation
comes out of the setting sun,
it’s a lovely slice of southwest waters.

A special slice of so much nature and life,
a place to absorb my surroundings
high up in open mountain space,
of blue veins in arms of Houser Creek,
wondrous swaths of wilderness
where rugged mountains join the lake
with huge boulders and ancient snags,
that weave a peaceful water trail.

The evening explodes in plume and splash
with mirrored surface of jumping bass
ruffling the pleats of unpolluted silence.
I hone in on another tranquil moment
here in my own private lagoon
and mountains darken evening shadows
to meet the purple praise of day,
with the bluish bills of ruddy ducks.

An osprey gleans the lake for a twilight meal,
long bent wings sail over my gentle wake,
leaping white-bellied high into the air
a bass bares its shiny soul to the sky
slinging out watery crystals,
maybe celebrating his passing silhouette
or the cooling waters of early evening;
we are both enlivened and refreshed.

One great egret stares a laser in the shallows,
her plumes an elegant scarf of white scrim,
she voices her opinion at my intrusion
and gracefully floats to the other side;
here in these hidden backwaters
true discovery only comes in sheer silence,
to meet each reflection of eye and soul,
and moonlight on my water trail.  
Ed Keenan © 7-07