The Silver Lake:
When Anthony and Anthony First Meet

by Bruce Kuiper

By a lake of clear silver he sits,
Ten strong fingers on fishing pole,
Back against ancient cedar tree.
Ruby fish take hookless line,
Rise and fall in gleeful spray,
Dart back to try again.
Intricate water designs intrigue;
Laying pole aside to pick up diamonds,
He hefts flawless stones,
Then, sidearmed, throws.
Green eyes twinkle at trios of skips and splashes,
Young limbs delight in movement and energy.

Hearing new laughter
He turns to find a freckled youth
Crooked now only in his smile.
Each nod, just once.
A massive brown dog rushes
From his lion friends and their game of tag
To bowl the brown-eyed boy over in wild welcome.
Each spring up from emerald grass,
Laughter and glad barking
In unrestrained reunion.
The dark horse-dog, reckless with joy,
Launches itself over the man, into the water
As the man pats the rock next to him in invitation.
Silver rain falls, the boy sits,
Upturned smile and outstretched arms.

The man reaches behind him
For the platinum guitar leaning there.
He grins, hands it across,
The boy cradles the gleaming whiteness like a son,
And the man fishes out of his overalls
His own precious harmonica.
He taps the gold against his palm,
And nods once more to his friend.

As the floppy-eared delight chases fish
They begin to play, heads bowed together,
Loud, triumphant, joyous, raucous, free music
Echoing across the lake through all twelve gates.
They play their alleluias
And sing with rumbling laughter,
Patiently waiting for other musicians
To join them on the cool rocks
By a lake of clear silver.

^{Envisioning Grandpa Anthony “Tony” Kuiper meeting
his namesake & great-grandson, Anthony Vos}