Early-Morning Swim
An hour has passed
Since I last spoke to the lake.
It's expressing just gentle suggestions
Of a rippling effect,
While its quilted stillness,
Having taken on a diffident demeanor,
Is sequestering its secrets
Fifty-six feet below,
In the water's deepest recesses,
Along its ten-odd miles of shoreline,
Within its nine-hundred-plus acres.
The tranquillity speaks to me.
Suddenly, from a distance,
My ears pick up the cries of loons.
Their frantic calls
Heighten the lake's quietude,
Make its silence all the more inviting.
I dive in.
05/21/09 - (2)
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