In The Wake

Any form of exertion would defile
what we are trying to do
 
here - absolutely nothing.
 
Two weathered men grunt
corpulent, excuses for not sitting idle
 
chores to be done.
 
An outboard motor breaks
the surrounding silence
 
morning's thrum has begun.
 
Mallards carve V's
in their wake, rippling wastes
 
bob lily pads, overgrown.
 
A seagull laughs
and a loon wails
 
lah-ooh-nah, lah-ooh-nah
 
crying summer's
departing feathers
 
molting into fall.