Day #225
The Lake
The lake is a strand of dark blue
Surrounded by a ribbon of green marsh grass.
Ducks fly in low, landing in formation,
They form a line paddling to the opposite shore,
Full of purpose.
How long has this rock I am sitting on
Been waiting here for me?
Certainly, since before I was born.
It seems likely to be here
Long after I am gone.
I picture this rock having been placed here
By the cataclysm that created these mountains,
Or perhaps it broke away from the peak above,
like a disobedient child, tumbling and churning
Until it came to rest here, where I sit.
I don’t want to leave this spot.
It makes me think of places far away,
Sights more beautiful than I can imagine,
Destinations I have yet to explore,
I think being here is enough, for now.
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