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The Lake

The Lake;
sparkling vast
like a river of crystal
through a green golden dream.

The air is warm,
and the breeze is cool.
The music plays,
and the kids run.

The birds;
those lovely birds
our friends, singing
sweet to the beat
of Life.

Zoom to the lake,
perfectly warm, but
cool enough.
Dragonflies swoop,
where the fish jump.

It’s hard to stand;
in the wake of the boats.
Waves pounding the shore,
Slap, Slap, in rhythmic
slapping just to slap some more.

Laughter in the air
The sun lowers down,
while the shadows are long,
till it drops gone,
and the skeeters sing.

Slap, slap, slap
the lake still breathes.
Frogs gloat, crickets call
and the booze hound shouts.
It’s time for him to sleep.

(Photograph: Lake Barkley, Tennessee)

Published by Chris Bunton

Publishing Editor for The Yard: Crime Blog.

3 thoughts on “The Lake

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