A SECOND AUGUST SONG
On Lake Sebago I wobble, thump and slosh and buckle till I'm sitting, legs extended, snug within my slender kayak resting on the slushy gravel. I heave my bulk a few times forward, grating graceless inch by inch, until I feel the bow go weightless, buoyant, silent, floating free. I scoop a... Sign in to see full entry.