Plum Lake

Crayfish lined the underdock
They lived in our shadow
We blended together to pick apart
The summer's lakewise sun

There was work, that was to fish
As children see it, any noun can verb
And the adulled impulse to spray wisdom
Is as cold as a frosty July morning

It may have been a boat day
A windblown canoe to the wrong side
Of the dusk's imminence, a guide 
For fear and hurry

Those little anxieties prickled 
And ensured the fullness of each day
Made every night a deepness