Lake Tomahawk

Blacktop from Minocqua drops

before quaint Tomahawk Lake village

and brakes need quick thumping
to make a sharp last turn

down the too narrow driveway.

Hugging the shoreline it stands-
One week's worth of rented cabin,
tucked between road and lake bay,
from all work to all play,
where our traveling ends.

Pontoon, paddle and kayak rest
at the water's edge, waiting
to enhance our yearly call,
to family-bond Up North,
during nature's summer state.

At the cabin's first night welcome,

silver and crimson grace our sky,
lighting July 4th pleasure boats,

with Anna, Jake, Ky and Gray,

cuddled and blanketed on dock.

Just opposite our busied highway,
Hemlock, oak and pine obscure

an old railroad bed, where
bicycles cover yesterday's tracks.

We navigate with caution
along the road's graveled edge,

brushing native sweet clover and ditch daisy,

for 10 minute morning walks to
Denver omelets and butcher shop meats.

At early morning sunrise,
outboards chug from a nearby dock,
as lake water and cabin coffee steam
before our bay lake window.

We pontoon the meandering channel route

connecting Lake Tomahawk to Minocqua,
where shoreline lilies bow to wakes,
and game wardens nod to boaters,
from tucked in river bends.

Fish poles tag foot long crappies
when the sun turns bold red,
bidding its day's goodbye,
into the evening tree line.

Fluorescent kayaks paddle to
the island opposite our bay,

where sunning turtles paint the rocks,
and green frogs strum for visitors.

Grilled meats from the butcher and

pot sandwiches on the campfire
keep meal plans grounded at cabin-
except for occasional fun meal out.

Docks creak out a summer rhythm.
Passing boats lap our short sand beach.
A blue heron hunts her shoreline.
A young gal and guy sunburn fish-
each day, in our rippling bay.

And now the inevitable returns.
The second Saturday morn appears,
pulling time along once more.

We say goodbye to our kind cabin.
So long Lake Tom!

Until we plan again.