Pays de L’eau #4 by James Morehead
July 3, 2011
Pays de L’eau #4
by James Morehead
breakfast is cold soggy cereal the pancake mix is repacked deeper waiting for sunshine damp canoes provide us no shelter the steady paddling rhythm continues we pull away onto deep water i only hear pellets of rain against my encased head the air smells damp and thick every breeze eats through vinyl wool and layered cotton i wait for the sun i remember my house in toronto sitting warm watching rain behind glass ----- it's my turn to help marty find firewood i am unprepared for scrounging hunting for twigs and branches marty laughs slinging an axe over his shoulder pulling a canoe to the water we cross to an island marty scans it for fuel i follow behind him silent ignorant watching from a distance his steel blade ripping into a dead pine tree severed falling crashing i scurry with logs filling the canoe as he eats through the tree branches and trunk avoiding marty's swinging axe awed ----- sunshine returns we thank it approaching our first portage it isn't food father explains it's hard work i worry about this paddling seems like hard work we pull ourselves our canoes and packs onto the shore john says it's a short portage over this hill less than a mile we're lucky i carefully choose the lightest box the fathers balance canoes between them heads hidden i try not to laugh at these bizarre four legged creatures i'd rather carry wannigans but my light load quickly gets heavier
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