Hemlock Park Loons
When fog creeps in to sheathe
the point, obscuring paths
among the brush, unseen loons,
hallooing one another,
map out this realm
of hemlock, rock, and water.
Loon cries vivify fireside
conjuring, old camper’s tales,
for the point’s new children:
they glimpse fabled elders,
conveyers of craft and lore
who made a mile or more
of winding roadway through
cut and cultivated trees.
Loon cries reassure us
as we sit in circled peace.
The birds know where they are
and so do we.
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