Sometimes the lake takes sunlight,
turns it into a deep blue
that might make you leave your mouth
open slightly like a child
just awake from a nap.
On some leaden summer days,
the lake quits moving, stays
so still it turns frog green.
Sluggish fish nap. Anglers
take their tackle-boxes home.
Giant bugs come and dance
on the water. At night?
At night the lake puts its colors
in an old drawer. It hums tunes
and talks to raccoons and owls
and hiding water fowls.
In Winter the lake turns white
with ice and snow--becomes
stationery from 1925 on which
you scribble pleas to Spring.
Hans Ostrom 2024
