on the lake

by Paul Ilechko

They asked us to choose

between cherries and grapes

but I went with acorns

and the way in which the fog rested

so delicately on the surface

of the lake in the early morning

I paddled a kayak wearing only

a pair of borrowed shorts 

when we took off from the narrow

beach and headed to the far bank

people who grew up locally

think the lake is small

but that’s because they are comparing 

it to the immensity it had 

when they were children

there are more mosquitoes now

and the undergrowth is denser

and I worry what will happen to this place

as the century proceeds 

later I will call you on the phone

we will talk of my day and your day

all of the things we might have done

if we had been together

and I’ll tell you about the texture 

of the fog and the colors exposed

by the rippling waters 

as the sun rose over the eastern hills. 

Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, deLuge, Stirring, and The Inflectionist Review. He has also published several chapbooks.