THE DOCK

How unexpected to find such a structure at a school,

Yet somehow it looks like it belongs there.

Perched at the end of a tree-lined road,

It complements the surrounding field of green grass, and swaying boughs.

It evokes images of summer days spent fishing

Listen! There is the sound of crows calling to me in the distance.

Somehow they know I am nearby.

A shimmering lake tries to mesmerize me, distract me from my focus.

 All the while the dock sits still upon the water

Waiting patiently for me.

Made by men, but I know not why.

It is not like a sixth-grader arriving at a brand-new school. 

Its weathered and ashen-colored wood reveal it has been

Here a while.  It knows the ropes and how to survive the demands

Imposed by nature and those imposed by man.

It has a quiet strength that has withstood much adversity.

It has learned over the years, as it matured, that it must remain strong,

Or it could slip away to the bottomless depths.  

Neither pounding rain, nor scorching heat could

Defeat it.  Even the winds tried, but the dock triumphed,

Time and again, over Nature’s harsh punishments.   

As it matures, it shows signs of age. 

Wooden two-by-fours no longer evenly spaced,

The nicks in the wooden planks, like scars, have added to its character.

Its two-by-four boards, once snugly fitted together, now warped and uneven,

 Stretch out nearly 30 feet toward the water.

I wonder if it remembers what it used to be.

Does it remember its childhood as a tree? 

Was it lost or lonely, this solitary dock, when

It was first placed here?

It couldn’t be. 

Builders chose this pristine spot carefully.

It juts out upon a beautiful lake, surrounded by students, teachers, books and buildings,

Full of hopes and dreams, and friendship,

Must provide comfort as it rests along the shore

 Inviting one to sit, or fish or reflect upon it.

 Its sturdy wooden legs keep it fixed, not floating.

As water laps at its wooden pillars, it silently withstands the

Elements and seems no worse for the wear.

As I sit here gazing at this wooden dock, I wonder if anyone

 Else has been here, and felt the dock’s lure.

I wonder when it travels through time, as it must, as will I, will

I remember it or will it have changed so much that it may

Seem like it was never there at all -just a figment of my imagination?