Saturday, May 28, 2011

Morning, Lake Flower

Filtered sunlight
Gold of early morn
Reflecting green hillsides on still waters
The town awakens
Traffic sounds occlude the calls of many birds
Red-winged blackbirds, robins and wrens
Singing only for themselves
A loon cries out in flight
Distant outboard heads across the lake
Gentle hum and slapping water heard long before it is seen

A new day
The same as all
Full of promise or full of pain
That choice, alone, is ours to make

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