Last Loon Calls

Pull the red canoe

up to the tree line

Lift the cedar dock

out of the cold

September's gone, the north wind's arriving

And the maples

have turned to gold

And the last loon is calling across the gray lake

A long lonely sound for the silence to take

The kids are all gone to the cities down south

And the fireplace is cold at the mouth (hmmm)

Lock the heavy door

behind the screen frame

Put the key under

the same gray stone

It waited all summer

for hands that didn't come

Now October leaves me here alone

There were footprints in the sand once

Laughter echoing out from the shore

Now it's only the wind in the hemlocks

And the squeak of the old wooden floor

Under the same stone as always... (ahhhh)