Monday, June 20, 2011

Secret Lake

Abandoned quarry
with water surprisingly clear
sandy bottomed and surrounded
by pines in a forgotten swatch
of New Jersey.
Gutsy sunfish hover
around my ankles, and the
solstice sun warms my back,
airplanes buzz peacefully overhead,
like bored bumblebees,
droning in straight lines.
Sandy shores and tiny pebbles,
the occasional zealous cicada
hidden in the brush.
The fish are small and the same
color as the sandy bottomed lake.
In the shallows, the water is so clear
it's as though they are swimming
through air. And for them
it is air,
their humble shadows cast on the bottom
more visible than they themselves;
they congregate around my toes
like curiosities.
The fish are the leaves
of the lakes trees, moving and swaying
in unison with the lakes winds,
the currents.

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