Two Weeks In Georgian Bay

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Splashes from the wakes crash into the rocks
and find their way into my eyes that sting and tingle.
It is a tiny isle out of nowhere-
an island of invisible spiders that lay eggs on our tents at night
and hissing snakes, that quietly wait in a puddle of water.
The only way out is the blue, white, orange and red, and green kayaks,
peacefully beached on the rocky shore.
Finding a wooden box we call a toilet is the mission of the day-
it is hiding behind the bushes, hoping to bury its stench.
A woman’s voice echoes around the island,
announcing the lunch menu for today;
always the same-
wheat tortilla with peanut butter and jelly, apple, and cheddar cheese


Eight days, six hours, and twenty seven minutes passed by.
Powder blue sky is my laced blue bed cover,
white clouds are my soft pillows.
I lie in a damp sleeping bag,
and everything reminds me
of home, my home.
Clear drops of water warm my cheeks.


Endless horizon of white, sapphire, and occasional turquoise-
in front of me is the outburst of color, firing up the blue.
No one knows where the water ends and the sky starts.
The sound of breaking waves comforts my tired body and mind.
This isle out of nowhere
with its continuous flicks of infinity;
its bits of tranquility and splendor in every rock and tree
makes me say, I want to be here for just one more week.





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