I hadn’t intended to pass by the lake.
I meant to take the highway. But then
I got distracted by my thoughts and missed
my turn and here I was, right in the midst
of this absolute splendor of
a perfect autumn afternoon.
The fisherman in the boat near the far shore
is so still he doesn’t even make a ripple.
Here, four geese etch the lake
with their fine silver wakes, disturbing nothing,
silent as the water, slowly floating through
the reflections of the brilliant, turning trees.
I blend into the stillness, too, softly breathing
thanks.