Home I'll Be

A new friend, mylastsigh, is contemplating rocks this morning. This called to mind two photos I took on the end of the dock at my cottage last Labour Day weekend.











missprune, I hope you're reading this. The bottom picture depicts the daily Birth of a lake, like in my poem. Morning mist rises in late summer when the lake is warm but the dawn air is chilly. The rising sun evaporates surface water, but it immediately condenses into mist. Those are the "angelic beings."

(I shouldn't dissect the magic, should I? Oh well, it's done.)

The water is smooth and fragrant as nectar. The bottom is mostly sandy, but cluttered with these rough granite stones. My daughters like to dive and collect them, gathering the pretty ones into piles, throwing the plainer ones into the middle of the bay.

Writing about it I am suddenly sick with longing for my piece of paradise, my home.

I see the blue lakes, feel the passion,
I have reasons to believe,
There are places that will bring you to your knees.

~Rita MacNeil

("Home I'll Be" is one of the songs from my choir's recent concert. You can read the rest of the lyrics and hear a sound clip here. Don't go if you're allergic to sentiment.)

Now I have to add this to my list of songs that make me cry.