A black and white vision of solitude on a lonely lake,
the loon moved silently on the still water
surrounded by the mysteries of the early morning mists.
A battered canoe glided into sight,
piloted by a human male whose appearance
likewise declared a love of wilderness and solitude.
The man’s searching eyes disclosed
a shining clarity of thought miscalled madness
for want of understanding by those who judged him so.
Society had shunned him as he had shunned
the mad cruelties and rigid intolerance
of outdated, unevolved social structures.
The loon instantly recognized a companion of spirit.
With wings outstretched in a universal sign
of respectful acknowledgment and acceptance,
he voiced his shrill, reverberating salute…
The loud, clarion call haunted the visionary atmosphere
through which the poet followed his quest.
While alarming more fearful creatures, this call
stimulated the predatory instincts in other hungry listeners.
Inspired by the amazing power of this peculiar poetry,
the human echoed the lyrical call with gratitude.
Then, in silence, the loon moved further up the lake
exploring the mysterious mists beyond—
the mists he loved and could not fear.
April,1992 revised May, 2004 February, 2006
Flowerpoet 