A small circular lake.
Water. Perfectly still,
and crystal clear,
but for when fish jump,
and send round ripples,
radiating outwards.
Surrounded by greenery,
evergreens and shrubs.
Flowers in bloom.
An old log floats, still,
on the surface of the lake.
I am like the log.
Still.
Floating.
In my kayak.
One with nature.
An osprey caws.
It swoops by with a prize.
Other birds flutter with commotion.
Another fish jumps,
and a light breeze comes by,
creating little tides at the shores.
The sky is blue.
The clouds are white and fluffy.
The air is cold, but not too much.
A quiet place.
Out of the way.
Unremarkable.
Yet heavenly.
Poetry
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