Black and white birch bark peels gently,

gently away from the tree.

White Pines offer their branches up,

up high to the sky.

The rough red bark exposes it,

exposes it as a Red Pine.

The canopy of trees glow,

glow as rays illuminate the green of the leaves and peek through to lighten,

lighten the gravel path that crunches underfoot.

The creek gurgles,

gurgles water cold as ice amidst the warm summer air.

Rocks, perfectly misshapen to lay upon,

to lay upon and gaze at the water.

So grand and sturdy one can climb them,

climb them high up into the sky.


Summer nights spent sprawled out,

sprawled out on the warped wooden dock.

Gazing at the glowing orbs scattered,

scattered across the black canvas.

Listening to the waves softly lapping,

lapping on the shore.

The loons calling to the moon hanging,

hanging so enormous on the black canvas.


Birds chirping,

chirping as glowing rays color,

color the black canvas crimson and gold.

The green leaves quiver,

quiver as a gust of calm winds blow through the forest.

The air warmed by a shining sun,

a shining sun casting a pleasant glow across the deep blue lake.

Paddles slice through the deep blue guiding,

guiding the path of the aluminum canoe across the blue.

The blue scatters and ripples as a stone skips,

skips across its surface, as bugs hum,

hum quietly over it.


This land so full of life,

so full of life and of motion.

Yet this land is simultaneously tranquil,

tranquil and still.

It exudes peace,

peace and it provokes deep thought.

Never has a space reminded,

reminded one just how small their existence is in the grand scheme of life.

Never has a space given one such a sense,

such a sense of belonging and of purpose.

A land so exquisite and vital.

A land whose life makes others feel alive.

A land thats life must be protected.

A land worth protection.