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Overlooking
The lake from his cottage deck
Like a captain last to leave his ship
My dad
Discards his cane atop the stairs
Fastens his wobbly hips and knees
Sideways
And to the rickety railing
He Inchworms his wrinkled hands
Across the slivers

Down he goes
Two feet
Each
A step at a time
Descending the 40 planks to Torch Lake

He enters the cold water

Strolling to the end of the rickety dock
Where his hands release
To a buoyancy catching him
Under his arms

My dad is young again

Springing high and settling back
Bouncy as a moon walker
Bending easily for pennies or clams
And no one dares cha-ching
At his elbow to help anymore.

He levitates on his back
Arms arrowed past his head
Like Superman
With his blue lake cape sailing behind him
Flying away across the summer.

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