the lake road

my dear friend,


it winds along the reservoir,

first straying through quiet trees

and shiny, new house developments.


then a window opens, limbs and leaves

draw back, and the asphalt tries to smooth

the jagged edge of the shore.


sometimes the lake is made of ebony

glimmering with gold and silver in liquid

lines—memories of day at night.


then morning paints itself upon the waters,

the sun scattering diamonds with a generous

hand across the shivering, fallen sky.


there's magic on the lake road,

which begs us slow and turn



to the osprey who drifts

above the gathered waters,


to the herons posed like

statues along the shore,


to the wild ducks bobbing

in loose conversations wherever

the current will draw them.


I linger on the lake road, even

though I'm almost home.




with joy,



karly alexandra


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