The Call

I hear you as I lie in my bed, the lonely trill that means you are close to the dock. I sigh, dawn has just arrived and I don't feel like getting out of the bed and walking down to the dock. I want to capture your beauty on film but couldn't you just visit me later in the day when I am better rested.

As it is, I stumble out of the bed, search for my shoes and creep out of the house, fumbling with the tripod and the camera as I go down the 30 steps to the dock. When I get there, you are floating gracefully on the water but I took too long and you disappear from sight before I get my camera mounted onto the tripod.

I sigh, maybe tomorrow and take some time to capture the lotus as she wakes for the morning.

This continues, every morning, I awaken to your call and I scramble down the stairs, still wearing my pajamas in an effort to capture your beauty. I am successful once, but the photos do not do your enchanted solitude justice and your call has become a chant urging me forward.

Never do you swim close to my dock when I am ready and once I find you looking up at me, your eyes intent as you try to figure out who and what I am. You are less than five feet away, the perfect spot for me to photograph you but my camera is turned the other way and you disappear beneath the water before I can turn it back.

This game we play each day until the final day that we are leaving. I wake up to your lonely call once more but this time, the call sounds more like you are telling me good bye. I don't shuffle out of bed and race down to see you but instead, I listen to your call, trying to brand it in my mind so that the call of my elusive loon will remain with me long after we have left.