A still morning, sun up,
I row us to a cove
where turtles sun on a log
that fell in the water
near shore. Twenty must be
gathered today. A few
plop in the lake when we get
too close. An eagle crosses
the lake, lands on a tall pine—
a great surveyor,
eyes watching. A loon
swims by, keeps her distance,
a few babies on her back.
Her song sounds mournful,
almost despairing,
to our ears. How content
she seems. Hungry, we
row back to the cabin,
scrambled eggs and toast.
A breeze helps us along, noon
already docking on our pier.
INSTANT NOODLES 