Fickle Nature

the blue sky smiling our small boat crossing the lake leaping the smooth waves It was one of our many outings on an ordinary Utah summer day. Our kids were teens. We had rented wave runners that my son and I were riding alongside our motor boat as we all headed to a small private sandy beach. There we moored the boat and settled down on a blanket for our picnic lunch. Suddenly, the peaceful sky began to darken. Heavy droplets, starting slowly, developed into an assault of angry pounding rain. We rushed to our boat to get back to the dock, which was about twenty minutes north of us. Once in the water, the wind strengthened, and mighty moving ridges came rolling before our eyes. Fear gripped my heart, and I could hear my 13-year old son begin to sob. “It will be ok,” was all I could think to call out though I felt helpless trembling in the downpour. All at once, a billow heaved itself completely over our boat. My husband and daughter began desperately bailing out water as it grew higher. It was up to my son and I to go ashore and bring back help. I now understood the meaning of wave runners, for I was running for all our lives as my heart beat to the rhythm of the lake’s surging waves. alone with nature my husband and my daughter. . . the slow sinking boat Written 1/10/13 for the Haibun Form Poetry Contest of "Broken Wings"