Found Lake

Two roads diverged in our north woods,
And knowing we would not travel both,

And by our truck, not long we stood.

We looked down one as far as we could

To where it lay through the overgrowth.

Twas a path to lake- one lane, and stoned,

With evergreens to make one ponder.

The lake being large, could not be rowed.

The shore had not weed nor grass, it showed
And shallow drops that made dock longer.

Adjacent Lost Lake, it was named Found.
It's 2 wood cabins faced south to shore.

The lake's location was close to town

And basin views photo'd large and round,

But it's no-sand beach could have been more.

The neighboring roads gave rise, then fall.

Up sun dried hills our bikes followed,

Past fragrant greens and pines so tall.

We passed through aromas I recall
And to cool baths down curved road hollows.

Supper meals were family eaten,
After grand kids ran round and around.

Andy made steaks and Mike, grilled chicken.

Pie iron meals were finger-lick'n,
And jokes were spun between ember sounds.

Large mouth bass found poles at the dock
and bluegills tugged lines across the lake.

One otter stole fish at 8 o'clock,

While eagles patterned skies as I watched
How it dove from pier with fish to take.

We enjoyed warm days throughout the week,
But halted play during one rain storm.

The pontoon smacked dock, making it creak.

Well, this was easy for Jeff to tweak.

He nudged dock posts back atop platform.

Holly devised her pin-the-tail game,
Blindfolding kids and giving a spin!

We recognized Kate, then Jeff, and Gray,

Then Andy and Jake- Happy Birthday!
Thinking back now, I carry a grin.

This year's vacation was one night less.

We traveled then to a small cabin,
Purchased in June, just a short drive west,

On a private lake for that night’s rest.
We slept under pine, oak, and aspen.

I think back now, recounting traffic,
That followed north near my childhood farm.
I'd laugh at folk's vacation antics.
Shirking their work was much too graphic,
While I had the chores around the barn.

With age and saved wealth to help along,
I travel too, heading back and forth.
Those old travelers were not so wrong.
I spend more time, driving the year long,
And when I cannot, my thoughts flow north.

My lines bow to Frost, most certainly.
Here comes the dash to end with suspense:

Two roads diverged in a woods- and we,

We drove toward lake and family!
And did that not make the difference.