During the retreat I mentioned in my last post, we leaders took our teens out on the dock and had some quiet time one night. It was really amazing, as was the whole camp, and the peaceful atmosphere was incredible. The hours after sunset are a pretty magical time, cheesy as that sounds. This poem just kind of turned out as the result of my observations of all the senses during this short time on the lake.
Dusk on the Lake
The lake is
a mirror of movement
as the deck
dips and sways.
The water is an
echo of light,
the windows casting
a liquid glow.
Guitar skims across the water
The whisper of wind
matches the murmer
of the shuffling bodies.
A highlight of white
is a chip on the dusty dark blue sky
bleeding lighter around the edges.
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