The Lake

Gentle waves calmly make their way toward rock shore,
The cumulus clouds open like a great, white door,
Revealing light blue, o what a wondrous hue,
The ducks sit on shore, their feathered coat they methodically preen,
I take it all in, this sight, where blue meets green,
And all my vicious, violent thoughts are cast asunder,
O what a view, what great wonder!
The circle of fire slowly begins to hide
Below the horizon, it reluctantly slides,
And bows before the great, pale moon,
Night fall, like a flower, begins to bloom,
The cicada happily sings his soulful tune
As dark descends like a masked caper,
My thoughts ease out onto this blank paper,
I look up and notice across the lake
The asphalt road that continues to snake
Where it leads I do not know
But maybe someday, that way I will blow
Like the gentle wind that whispers at me,
Begging me to stay, that is its plea
I cast my glance at the now pitch black sky,
The moon greets me with a grand surprise
He lays a soft, white carpet of light at my feet
With this great gift, I can not compete
I cry, "O moon, I have nothing in return
, but I do want to give back, for this I yearn!"
The big ball begins to chuckle,
He thumbs his big, crater buckle, "I did not give in order to get,
you owe me nothing, so do not regret.
Now enjoy this beauty that surrounds you,
let it exfoliate your soul, within, it will create new!"
I look out on this window of the world,
At this cloth canvas that was lovingly unfurled
And paint was placed with painstaking detail,
Even the great Van Gogh could not match such a scale.