June has arrived, bringing dreams of languid summer days: Morning walks perfumed by honeysuckle, evenings at the grill, and of course, lazy days on the water, the subject of June's Poem of the Month.

 


                                       Off Tucker Point

Sunday morning, while the church people are still abed,
Before the jet skis shred the silence, their wake gnawing the shore,
I lay by in a cove, tie up in the shade of a cherry tree,
Give the kayak its head, and drift:

My kayak drifting in the current and the breeze
To the end of its tether;
My mind drifting as well, moved by thoughts of impossibilities
Past, present and future.

I watch the arrowroot wade ashore,
While spider webs collect leaf mold and cadavers.
A kingfisher laughs in passing,
As a great blue heron takes umbrage and takes flight.

The bank is pocked with sanctuaries large and small,
Lifelines for mammals, amphibians and insects,
Each a diner…and a dinner in due course,
An unending cycle, but unhurried in my cove.

The stillness wraps around me.
I close my eyes and am transported;
I look into your eyes, walk with you for a moment,
Saying nothing to break the morning still,

While in the cove the frogs call me back,
The dragonflies hover, the turtles bask,
The minnows breach at the coming of the perch,
And I grow young on the waters of the Potomac.

by Lee Alloway

from "Swatting Gnats" (2012)