August Song On A Northern Lake
In the early morning mist of a northern lake
the August sun has yet to highlight trees hinting of autumn.
A boat moves to the sound of the paddle
on the glass smooth quiet,
as an eagle speaks from a tree too far away to see
and the distant call of a Loon is heard.
Resting the paddle,
the boat glides on,
accompanied only by faint ripples,
suspended over clear darkness,
then closer to shore,
over upward reaching shapes of green.
In the embrace of stillness,
slowly from a far shore,
the ever changing shape of an approaching cloud appears.
a hushed many winged song is heard
as the migrating blackbirds head south.