Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Lake

Evening shadows lengthen
bringing quiet to the lake.
The wind sighs one last time
and goes away;
choppy water and white caps
give way to the smooth dark
surface.

Reflections of the new summer
green of trees line the shore
in the mirror of its reflection
leaving a sense of wonder.
What has been here
before?

A Loon screams on the far side,
he dances to impress her.
His love yet unrequited,
he skates across the surface
disturbing its stillness,
breaking the reflection
of the silver fir.
I strain my ears to listen
to the sounds, the rhythms of
life.

Grouse drum in the birch
high on the slopes above
this great northern lake
breaking the silence
of the early evening otherwise
broken only by love.

Are the fish here? The bass, the pike,
maybe the small perch
I caught when I was a boy?

© James Webb, 2010

1 comment:

  1. Jim ~ This prose was beautiful.
    I don't have the appropriate words to compliment your writing so I'll just say, I've read it 3 times and enjoyed it very much.
    Rebecca

    ReplyDelete

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