Canoeing

Our paddles sluice
the dusk-dark water
as night draws
the evening sky
close overhead.

Cedars and spruce
hang tipsily over the bank
leaning their dark reflections
over the lichen-clad granite.

A fish lunges
the taut skin of the lake
and overhead a kingfisher soars
beaking his lunatic call.

We drift the lazy water
clap echoes off
the tree-line
watch dragonflies etch the air.

Mist rises from
the edge of this day
and the humped hills
finally swallow the sun.