Kathryn J. Stevens
All summer you sat beside me watching geese swim through translucent ripples. You weren’t interested in the babies paddling behind imperious mothers, or in the half-grown goslings skimming the surface in pursuit of each other. For long minutes, you studied a gander intently fishing among apple-green lily pads. Then without a word, you got up and drifted away.
in the lake
Now the air has lost it’s luster. The hills have settled more surely into themselves. The geese are gone.