The Portage

The bow of the red canoe draws
near the outtake, the restless
lake incited by a cutting
wind laps the shoreline's
pickerel weed, its lavender wands
hailing the paddlers' arrival
at the portage. The trail is 
steep and narrow, brightly
orange, despite the forest gloom,
the pines tall and straight as
a ship's mast. Roots and rocks
plot to trap the hikers' boots
but long familiarity with such
terrain inspires the confidence
of those whose covenant with
nature has been reciprocated.