The Lake

Sun crowns eastern pines

Flashes of green infiltrate the mist

Loon’s mournful cry pierces the haze

Only faint echo

Lost love?

Weary eyes gaze neath laden brow

Long years their toll taken

Lake of polished Azurite

Celestial mirror for spirits?

My bed of moss

Secure amid Juniper arms

A serene haven

Where dreams I may ponder.

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Papa Nyk's Tales