Toronto's Lakeshore

I've been going there since I was a kid.

whatever god is,

it’s here with me now.

it’s the cold lakewater in between my toes.

it’s the pebbles and stones that press into my soles.

it’s the seagulls that cry their ugly cry.

it’s the sound of the waves hitting rocks.

it’s the smell of the lake;

the algae and the fish.

it’s the sun,

warming and browning my skin.

it’s the wind, tousling my hair.

it’s the splash of water that wets my shirt.

it’s the coolness of that wet,

that creeps up my arms as i pick up rocks from the lakebed.

it’s how my feet slip as i stand on algae covered boulders;

lying beneath the lake.

it’s the white sailboats that dot the lake, the shores

it’s the skyscrapers and the tower and the buildings that lie to the eastern shores.

“god”, whatever it is, is in the ducks that paddle along the coast.

it’s in every pebble that comprises the pebble beach.

it breathes the life into the trees

and into the dogs,

and their owners, who observe.

it’s the peace that i feel.

standing amongst the water and the ducks and the wind and the sun and the boats and the dogs and the skyline and the pebbles and the stones.

cars and chatter and city noises fading into the distance;

the ethereal woosh in the background.

though i don’t believe in god;

it is here with me now, in whatever way it is.

whether that god is science,

or a big man in the sky.

an unending thrum.