Another timeless, hazy day lakeside
so much of so very little on my mind.
The opposite shore is a curtain of beech and pines,
their tips jut out against a pale blue canvass.
There is no pattern; yet with every scan of the tree-line
there’s a comfort in seeing how earth meets heavenly skies.
I’m lulled by sounds of a continuous lapping against a rocky edge,
a soft melody passed on through the ages. Slaps of water, time and time again…
carrying all things to this place; and, from this place…
I gaze, then peer deep into the water beside the dock,
only catching mosaic reflections of cloud and green darkness.
Dancing ripples advance across the surface of the water;
it’s the single chaotic motion on this still day.
and my attempts to follow one proves pointless – as each ripple will rise to fall,
and, then, seemingly rise again.
A sighting: a solitary loon stretches out its wings
then folds them neatly back in before it tucks and dives –
a sideways descent into eternity.
Just how long might I hold my breath
so I may be graced with this day forever?
Chris George
July 2012
(ed. – This poem first appeared in By George Journal in July 2012.)
Chris George, providing reliable PR counsel and effective advocacy. Need a go-to writer and experienced communicator? 613-983-0801 @ CG&A COMMUNICATIONS.
