The sky above

The sky above

And the lake below

Were so still

Time not moving

The surface reflecting light

As old as the unseen stars 

The mystery of the clouds 

Wisps, whispering softly,

Floating below themselves 

On a mirror stained

By lily pads 

And fallen oak leaves

A canvas of light

An impossible abstract 

Impossibly real

And I stood on the dock

Quieted by wonder

Drawn into the peace

Marvelled by something 

I might never see again

And would have never seen

Had I not stopped 

To look

At creation’s gift that day.