The Lake


As the sun sets over the lake,

A fish skillfully soars out of the water

To return again to the depths soundlessly.


The water laps against the shore

As rhythmically as a drum

Yet as quiet as a babbling brook.


As the sun slowly sinks,

Leaving only a shadow of light leering over the lake,

The lake seems to slip into silence.


Then the wind wales and the trees whip wildly.

The lake becomes restless

And the chill of the wind causes me to shiver

Yet it somehow warms me.


The wind dies down

And the lake returns to the sweet, serene scene.

The sun finally retreats behing purple mountains.

It leaves the lake in the pale light of dusk.


The sun retires completely

Leaving near darkness.

Darkness, except for the faint twinkle of

The stars above, shining down on the lake

Whose beauty will never cease.


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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