My Old Boat 

So much of our lives
We take for granted
What used to be thrilling
Slowly becomes mundane
Even neglected
My old boat
Is not the fastest
And her beauty
Has been surpassed
By newer models
On the lake
But there are moments
When the water is still
And the sun casts
Its last rays
In colorful hues
Across the water
I grab the throttle
Throw it down hard
To feel that power
Her surge forward
The wet joy
Once again

Words and image by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2017