Clear Day

and so a clear day dawns on a still lake

and the light slowly rises on a darkened world

and the birds complain of waking or greet the day we may never know which

and young voices who have no concept of "too early for this"

call excitedly to one another about some wonder they believe no other mortal eye has seen.


and those who stood huddled on the shore in darkness

with but a single glimmering light like a hope that we'd not forgot them

come out of the darkness in bold relief

etching themselves in the mirrored waters.



and I am reminded of the muscular thunderheads that meet every noon in the summertime

for they too come out of the blue and etch themselves in nature's mighty power

consuming water which is the source of their terrible energies

etched in water on blue air bathed in lightning and shouting like thunder

reducing the odd and errant habitation of man to a pile of sticks and stones.



WaterLillies...