Snow covers my Swift Prospector Canoe as I look out over the beaver pond which is in front of my home.
The pull of the paddle is strong and I have no ability
to resist its song.
I dust her off and we join hands and dance our last dance for the season.
When spring begins to thaw the ice and if I am here to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I will once again grab my paddle and place the yoke of the canoe over my shoulders. I will place her into the water and plunge my paddle deep; so that I may hear her hull as she glides across the water.