The Lake Cottage
A couple weekends ago I went with my family to a lake cottage in East Texas this is what I wrote while I was there.
A place of retreat. A blessing to many. A home made for a yearning heart. A simple place to rest. Needs are met. Refreshing comes.
You walk inside and your eyes are drawn to the windows. They ache to be rolled up. The double doors call to be unsealed. Without waiting you throw open the windows and a whoosh of fresh air meets your face. You slide the door with a satisfying screech as the wind pushes through the opening and gently caresses your face. It beckons you to travel on. The silent patio is only an entryway to the true outdoors. It’s a waiting place for refreshing. The creak of door and first step let you know the path hasn’t been taken for some time. The wooden walkway dully vibrates as you travel outwards; your body aching to be nearer to the water. The weeds and grasses push onto the pathway trying to reach across to places they have not been. The minnows scatter into the pond scum as the walkway vibrates with footsteps. A momentary pause in the cricket and frog songs signals your passing. The spiders’ webs are expertly spun along the handrail. The webs pulse in the wind, their creator not visible. A dead log creates visual interest upon stepping onto the dock. Satisfaction mounts as you travel to the edge and look out over the muddied waters and survey the shore. As you stand still listening, the insects and amphibians restart their chorus to the creator. The occasional airplane and vehicle remind you that civilization is not far from this retreat.
Scanning the shore you see the gathering water birds. They are far enough away their calls barely echo. With field glasses they come into sharper focus. They look like they are dancing along the waters edge. Each bird vying for a place to dip their feet. The youth play and the eldest preen. The dragonflies perform a dance with their doubled wings. They zig and zag and go up and down and then pick a place to rest until something deters it back into flight. Their blues and greens are vibrant, their eyes ever searching the waters. They dip into the blackness refreshing their bodies from the sun. The black water ripples with the wind. The closer water is absorbent then it paves the way for the bright reflection of the sun. The ripples are silent but the trees sound their leaves in triumph. A neighbors voice is carried on the wind. New spider strings float in the air undulating with the airy current looking for a place to fasten. They attach to the railings and whisper their landing. The shores edge is encased in trees. All anchored where water abounds. They stand straight and tall, their leaves beginning to show the coming fall. The sun is hot and it bears down on the flesh but the wind keeps it from searing. Searching the water, bubbles from the deep are evidence of the life below. They pop at the surface and you wait for its maker but nothing surfaces. A cow loes and a bird in flight calls. Unexplained sounds make you lift your head but not seeing you look back to the water. In the distance turtles balance lazily on stumps storing up the sun in their shells. With your eyes closed you imagine the Creator, the One who placed the trees on the shore and filled the lake with abundant life. The One who gives you peace and warms you with his Son!
With silence comes solace. The wind refreshes. The water renews. A break from the routine, the day flows as it may.
Linda
What a beautiful, refreshing poem!!