1)
Get in the water.
This fresh lake bears no threat,
close to mother as you could imagine.

First steps seem simple,
but be deliberate. Step
into the lake, into the water, away
from the shore. The lake cold,
inviting, refreshing, living.

The water beckons you.
Walk farther, wade further, to its depths.
Its clear soul waits for you.
Baptize yourself, is what it says.

Last step is first step.
Dive, be one with the lake.
Let it buoy you, lift you weightless, relieve
you of cares, miseries, aches, regrets;
give them up as you embrace this water,
its clarity, let its purpose carry you.

2)
Standing in this lake, half in, half out,
I lift my hands from the water to witness
them stream with clarity,
this place and moment,
mix of light, pure sky
and crystal golden water.
Stain me with its purity.

This lake is my patrimony,
you can take me from it,
but you cannot take it away from me.
It’s my well practised prayer of thanks,
as once again, I bathe in its pure water.

Is there a measure to the wealth of this moment?
Who will sing with me hosannas of joy and worship?
“We do,” whisper fragrant pines of the North.
“We will,” trill loons, their echo crying from the depths.
“We are,” croak forest coloured toads with gold rimmed eyes.
“We’re here,” say schools of minnows that flash in shallows,
shudders of light and impermanence of life.
“I shall,” wings the great blue heron as it soars aloft
stitching many lakes into one with its needle beak.

“Let me be with you,”
I dive into cold water that steals my breath every time.
I reach to swim, break the surface gasping,
the taste of air more precious, more redolent with being
now it’s attended by forest smell of time since forever.
I sing, “Let me be one with you, oh North, these blessed waters,
witness to all of creation, let me be one with Thee.”

3)
Yes, it is holy.
These lakes spread across this rough
hard rock like benedictions.
Water seems intimate, but
the accumulated shore lines
would take you around the world and back.
The division between wet and dry seems arbitrary.
Each lake a cup of life, identical to another
a half kilometre away, joined by a creek, river
maybe 200 metres, there’s a beaver pond
in between. It begins and begins again.

There are many mansions in the house of my Father.

4)
Do not take me from here. I beg
no relief from night sky, spread with
the brilliance of the eternity of creation.
From exquisite start of day, attended
by mists of morning waters, reels
of quick easy fish that know nothing of life
or death, only the swimming of their living;

take me not from this beating heart,
this timeless endless moment of being,
let me squeeze a year of proper riot
into one pure day,
leap, race, dive,
to be first into water as it waits
ever present, ever inviting,
joyful and forgiving;

its only promise, this the first
of many more days
that cannot help but be better,
when there are so many more to follow,
today another beginning
between new and old friends.