a thing about lakes

here’s the thing about lakes:almost every day, it seems,just before dark,or just before dawn,a lake gets still and quiet,whatever storm or heat or playhas broken it.there must be an explanationthat would satisfya scientific mind–falling temperatures or currentsor something–but I don’t need one. justlet me learn to be still like that–

not all the time, but once a day,

not every day, but most days,

let me submerge the cold spring

that fills me up

and let me let cicadas sing

my soul to rest.

poem (c) 2016 and photo (c) 2005 D. Ohlandt

please only reprint in entirety and with credit given

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