Lake’s Edge

 ◊  Saint Genevieve, pray for us

A right turn towards the lake
      instead of the usual left that leads to home.
Down a short gravel road, park, a five-minute walk
      through bare trees and dried leaves to the water’s edge.
Azure sky, blue water, red dirt.
The piercing golden sun hovers over the horizon.
Waves gently lap against the sandstone.
Winter cold seeps slowly inward.
Silence embraces.

Lake's Edge in Winter

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