Warmth caresses my soul through speckled shadows upon crystal waters. Silence reaches out to me as a gift from one who knows. Pine fresh visions guide me in directions yet to be discovered, as clouds of wispy textures float overhead. These are the pleasures of kayak summers.
Back to the Artwork pageWarmth caresses my soul through speckled shadows upon crystal waters. Silence reaches out to me as a gift from one who knows. Pine fresh visions guide me in directions yet to be discovered, as clouds of wispy textures float overhead. These are the pleasures of kayak summers.
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When the loons no longer call
When the wolves have no need to howl
When the whispering pines are quieted
We feel the silent voices of Algonquin Spirits
Yield to me your secrets that I may know the storms I must endure. Yield to me your secrets that I may know the peace I may encounter. Yield to me your secrets that I may know the journey with faith and joy through the waves of my life.
I sit at the edge of day. It is the beginning of night. The sun exchanges places with the moon, and there is great stillness in the air. The night is full of magic, but all that is heard is the echo of the loon’s call. Blue Mystique envelopes those who will listen to the silence. The silence that is you.
Listen to the quiet tone of paddles stroking cool, clear, depths, as the swirl of gentle breezes soothe the haunting call of the loon. Ripples on rocky shores glisten, keeping time as they rise and fall in ancient rhythms. Choose to join nature’s symphony, with a genuine respect for all of its instruments, and rejoice in the subtle melodies of the canoe song.
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