Lake
The lake laps
at the shore
and my toes
like someone sipping a drink.
The moon resides
in the water,
while its counterpart
hangs in the sky
like a white rug
hung to dry.
The lake
cools my feet.
My toes sink into
the sandy bottom.
Ghostly fish
weave around
my ankles as
a breeze picks
up teasing my hair
from place.
I stare out at
the lake before me
my back towards
the trees, so wide
ten men could not
hug a single one. - Writing Reese
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