Summer on the shore of Lake Iroquois



Fish nibble our toes as we float in our tubes
Laughing, yelling, swigging off beer cans

Women are fussing over pasta salads
Men prod a leaking pipe on the back porch, offering theories

“We’ll fix it tomorrow.”

A bare-bottomed bandit, who’s escaped his mother
Jiggles victoriously as he flees a fresh diaper
photo by Shem Roose

“It won’t be long until we get him on water-skis”
A proud grandpa assures an unconvinced uncle

We talk about baseball, and weddings, and sweet corn varieties
But not about bosses, or bank accounts, or chemotherapy

This is how summer comes, and this is how summer goes
One day blurring happily into the next

Sun burned and sleepy
We settle in by the campfire

As the sun slips behind the pine trees
At the foot of the western shore

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