Torch Lake - Passing On the Torch

He walked up from the lake Throwing open the door of the glorious day Like a smiling OB-GYN snapping off his gloves With a toolbox in hand Delivered to my dad the good news. “I’m certain this new ignition will take care of it This time.” My old dad said to the boat guy I hope we can still get a few more years Out of her. The boat had become mainly show for us Suspended in its hand-cranked metal cradle Propeller crying Like a pinwheel held in a hand of gale Boat broke down summer after summer Amongst the new Lear jets Parked up and down the lake in solar-powered hoists All the way to Sandy Pointe We pretend it doesn’t matter Swimming here Is better than at the Sandbar or Cove I swim deep A shadow sprawled Along the sun-refracted sandy bottom Spearing this kaleidoscope of doubloons While silver bubbles shimmer from my nose A silver necklace Drawn up to the blue universe Past the gray of my temples As it should be Let them fillet the water with their young magic hulls To enjoy a sunset beer at the Dockside Like we used to in the Four Winns Indeed, it is wonderful Centuries ago The Ojibwa canoed this lake Was-wa-gon-ong at night With birch torches roaring Hunting Whitefish until they were all gone As well.