A marble: melted and pressed and levelled
a lake that rests in the valley of mountains
we rent a canoe and when we step into it
it sways on the seamless water, sending ripples.
The glassy lake shatters when we paddle.
The oar enters the water with a moment of resistance
but we look behind us and the lake has healed over
stitched itself back together, unbroken
no trace of us.
In the water is a reflection of the mountains
I can touch them below me with my fingertips
Atlantic cold and numbing, holding crystals in my palm
emerald waters and sapphire skies and lemon drop sun
vivid colours which eloquence cannot capture.
Our laughter is an electric insult to the placidity
it echoes, bouncing off the peaks,
reflecting off the trees and mocking in return.
“Shhhh,” the mountains whisper. “Shhhh.”
We become still, speaking with our eyes,
translating with our smiles, giggling under our breath
our canoe glides through the lake, our shoulders hunched.
This place speaks in tongue clickings and
bird peckings and tree brushings and duck landings
and water tricklings and glacier meltings and
insulted echoes, giving our voices back to us