Only the Paddles

Our canoe slips between the waters
which slosh gently against us
as he rows and I row, just a bit.
The boat has a small leak somewhere
and I position my feet to stay dry,
the water striders are running across the water
running from us, their slender legs and feet wet.
Houses appear along the banks with
boats dotting the lake’s edge, lined up
like guard dogs, their motors ready to growl.
A heron appears on a fallen tree, gazing at us
solemnly, hardly visible when she faces us
with turtles sunning themselves at her feet.
The air is still and the lake is a mirror
and trees reach for us as we glide
over clouds, white on the dark surface.
We talk quietly, only the paddles can hear.

Copyright ©2025 Lisa Paul

Truedessa from TrueWanderings is the guest host of d’Verse Poets Pub. She writes:

I would like us to travel around the riverbend listening for the songs that our paddle sings.  In Pauline’s poem we feel her connection to the natural world.  Perhaps, after reading her poem you will feel inspired to pick up your poetic paddle.

My only request for the prompt today is that you use the title “The Song My Paddle Sings” as a springboard for your poem.