The waves are rippling on the water’s edge,
While soft and fleecy clouds float high above.
Three hurried ducks go paddling past my view.
A motorboat moves out to ply the lake,
Leaving a white wake to mark its path.
Our cottage, nestled on the shore, reveals a vast expanse,
A reservoir that winds out through the hills
Providing views of lake, the sky and peace.
It’s quiet here, the sounds are restful now,
The scene brings beauty to the soul.
Far across the waves a bridge with traffic;
A reminder of a world of busyness.
While here is just the spot
To watch a floating leaf fall gently to the ground,
To see a sunset bursting forth in radiant splendor,
To hear a whippoorwill call to the eve.
The falling night lights up the sky with twinkling stars
As boat pier lights reflect upon the waves across the cove.
The night is still.
These summer days bring quiet to the soul.
(September 1995—One of a series of poems featuring some 16 different poetry forms written for the Predicate, the Park Centre newsletter.)