On the lake




The sun paints

the side of

the boathouse

glossy white,


the lake with light

that only night

can wash away.




The trees gather

around the shore

admiring their reflections,

leaves shimmering.




My boat follows

the water’s path,





I love the trees, lake, sun,

this day, this time

and I can almost believe

they love me back

when the wind sighs

and caresses my cheek

without a word,

the way lovers

so often do.