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Poems about my
personal Walden
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This first poem written in the Fall of 2000 about the Lake.
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Lake Wanduff at Plarming
in the Woods
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Sitting at my computer, the first day of Fall
The first Fall day of the new millennium.
Putting words onto non-existent paper
Wondering why I was there.
Outside the sun shined.
The cool brisk breezes
calling like the Sirens to come out and play.
A short time later, on the trail
My blades gliding, despite the headwind.
The magnificent sky, the day so perfect,
trying to enjoy the moment.
The flexing of the muscles, the perspiration
on the brow
The celebration of health consuming me.
Returning, I passed Lake Wanduff
A lofty name for a large pond.
Tree trucks who had seen life
Sticking starkly skyward.
A lone bench awaited my tired torso.
Ah, for a moment of rest.
Suddenly, the honking of the Canadian geese permeated the air.
Drifting from the sky, settling onto the smooth surface,
Ripples moving every which way.
Little berries turning from ruby red to deep fall purple
Hung quietly nearby in the autumn sun.
My senses came alive,
Listening and inhaling Nature's music.
My thoughts turned to prayers of celebration and thanks.
What a gift I had been given on this glorious day.
On the trail again, my stride now light
Rejoicing that I had listened to the morning Sirens' call.
Rejoicing that the little lake, Lake Wanduff, had told me her story
On this first Fall day of the millennium.
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| Comments: We all have very special days and experiences. This poem describes such a one. The bike trail is only a few miles from my home. I have skated past Lake Wanduff at Plarming in the Woods many times. Lake is a misnomer as the pond is only about 300 yards long and 200 yards wide. The owners must of had a glorious time selecting the name. I always enjoy skating by, but on this day I was drawn to sit, observe, rest, and yes, rejoice in life. Our souls need such moments to refresh themselves. |
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| In May of 2001, I returned to Lake Wanduff and wrote this follow up poem. |
Lake Wanduff Revisited
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Today the sounds saturate the mind
The tweets, croaks, caws, honks
Heard well before my arrival
The small pond still there
Looking much the same as a year ago
But neither of us really the same
A fence now winds along the shore
Attempting to keep the unwanted out
The geese are still heard
But not seen
Two small birds
Dart in and out of the nearby branches
The water before me
Having evaporated and returned many times
The Lake Wanduff of Life
Holds many similarities
Fences erected
Seldom accomplish what we hope
People and events continually
Dart in and out of our lives
Like the tree
The spiritual roots grow toward the Source
The flow that is the same
But ever-changing
The sounds of the Eternal all around
One must only take time to listen
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| Comments: One day, in early May I had the urge to return to Lake Wanduff, just a short walk down the bike trail. I left with journal and pencil and the urge to write. As I approached the pond, I couldn't help but hear the sounds several minutes before I saw the water. As I sat there, my thoughts shifted toward deeper meaning and the poem evolved. |
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Written in the Fall of 2003.
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Return to
Lake Wanduff
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The ride again takes me to Lake Wanduff,
......my personal Walden.
Moss and debris now cover much of the surface,
......undoubtedly caused by the abundant summer rains.
How different from my visit last spring
......though the dilapidated fence still stands.
Beyond, a short distance into the lake
......the slender dead barkless remains
......that were once trees
......unknowingly point skyward
The cicadas, crickets, and the unnamed
......fill the air with their songs.
Yet, this time no geese
......alight on the motionless water.
No ripples move in their endless circles.
The lake appears asleep.
Wait, in the distance, a small splash.
Was it a fish seeking sustenance?
How much more unseen by human eyes
......must be happening
......below this opaque blanket of water?
Perhaps that is Lake Wanduff’s lesson today.
......Though we may be limited by what we can see –
......The unseen is no less real.
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| Comments: I was disappointed to see how the Lake had changed since my last writing. As evidenced in the pictures taken over a short period of time, the moss had grown. Yet, the peace was still there. |
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Written in the Spring of 2004.
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Lake Wanduff 3
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Spring blues and yellows
......Brighten the trail.
Mallards make their racket
......As I pass Lake Wanduff.
Another year has passed
......And the algae have taken control.
More postings of keep out
......Haven’t stopped its plundering.
The bench remains isolated
......Only occasionally disturbed
......By a passing walkers or cyclists.
Spring sounds are heard,
......If one quiets and listen.
I fear that my place of respite
......May someday disappear –
......The lake turned to swamp.
Again the mallards honk.
......Yes, there is hope......
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| Comments: I'm even more disappointed this year on what I saw. |
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