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A Week on Squam Lake

First Published June 2010 in Mused - Bella Online Literary Review Volume 4, Issue 2  A WEEK ON SQUAM LAKE by Torre A. DeVito I had never heard a loon cry until that first night in New Hampshire at the lake house in Holderness. There we nine friends (more like one family: five siblings with four parents) talked and joked and made loon-puns: about bird's underwear (panta-loons), and big mean ugly birds (loon-goons). Meanwhile the haunting, lonely sound entered my soul. And then that first brisk morning we woke before the fish picked our way between the wisps of silent silver mist to cast our lines to the dark water. It was the last time a summer day would seem to linger for a brief eternity; those languid days which stretched before me like the lake, yet rushed behind me like the wake of our small motorboat. The last warm days of a summer that had begun with the death of a friend And would soon fade into the autumn of my childhood. Even now I hear the

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