RSS Feed

At The Lake

I’d forgotten how it is at the lake–
How the water stills itself
at the end of each long day
and again, at the start
of each new next day.
Smooth and still,
not like glass or mirror,
not like sheets on the clothesline
on a windless day,
not like a full bathtub
before the child jumps in,
not like our jumbled memories. Closer is
the way sometimes the teacher holds a pose
so the yoga students see for once how it would look,
if done enough times, with that peculiar mind of
focus without striving. But even that is not quite
The lake, which stills—
not like anything but its silver self,
stretching to the far shore
giving our restless eyes,
our agitated minds,
our hungry, always moving mouths,
something to follow–
a model for a different way.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Shades of Gray - Denison TX

Photographer of Life in North TX & points beyond

Red Wolf Poems

Prompting new poems for Red Wolf Journal

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

Rainbow Bakery

Photographing the rainbow of life

%d bloggers like this: