The water like glass
Reflects rippled clouds, a golden streak of sunlight;
The lake bottom is clear, small bits of white shells like baby teeth strewn about.
Black bugs pirouette above, briefly land to touch their partners: their silhouettes.
A fish disturbs the surface, leaving popples as it dips back beneath.
Something small — a minnow — skips across the water like a stone.
Overhead a great blue heron flies by, with a rhythmic pumping of wings.
The sun, which moments ago examined its face in the flat surface
Like a mirror,
Tucks back behind the clouds.
Another minnow leaps, this time 1-2-3 skips.
Beyond the water’s edge, birds chirp and twitter, simple sparrows. But is any of this simple? And isn’t it all?
A boat rumbles closer, traffic sounds rimming the lake pick up. It is a work day.
The spell is broken. And yet, it doesn’t have to be.
This snapshot, like a postcard, will remind me: I was here. I breathed this all in on June 19, 2019.
Like the dancing insects, like the shy sun,
I saw my heart’s reflection here,
and in the memory of yesterday’s unexpected visitors: a turtle and a toad (carrying messages I so needed to hear).
These can bring me here again and again
Until I return next year, to this place, to these writer friends, pen and notebook in hand.