Stealth by Betty Masson - January 2003

Against the hush of the morning dark

the paddlers gather with common spark

Launch the canoe and slip into place

Maneuver marina with quiet and grace

The sleeping boats raise an eyebrow and sigh

'the paddlers are out, the dawn must be nigh'

Past the breakwater, eyes searching for light

The ghost of a vessel comes into sight.

Small tug is quietly pulling his weight

A chime from the past is his method of freight.

The rhythm, the paddles, the skim and the flight

The glow from the sunrise is such a delight !

Folks in their slippers are stretching and yawning

Watching the paddlers as daylight is dawning

Thinking ' What fools are out there in canoes ? '

They know not what nature provides while they snooze !

The heron, he nods as we glide by his perch

The seagulls awake from their logs, and they search

For food on the shore, or for scraps from the boats

The seabirds just gather like crowds on the floats.

Intent on our workout , the dawn's a surprise ...

The north shore majestics delight in our eyes

The jewel that is Cypress has sparkled all night

Recedes now from spotlight as darkness takes flight

We bend to our task when the 'lead' calls for power

And laugh when it ends in a back paddle shower

" Well done " shouts the steersman, as muscles relax

And we nudge up to Hopkins to drink from the flask

A stretch and a story and we're back in position

With driftwood abundant, we want no collision

With a ' hut ' and a 'ho' the paddles gain speed

We're covering the miles like a very fine steed

So streamlined we paddle quite close to the shore

Winter rules in effect, no more 'hulies' in store

Feeling strong and so welcome, the comraderies great

We could challenge all comers to paddle the strait

But coffee is waiting - the 'Cuppa' is cozy

We're dripping with warmth, tho' the new day is frozy

It's the best way to start every day - rain or shine

Some would argue the point - its not theirs , but its mine.