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October 2013, vol 9, no 3

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Izzy David

Lake Watching

All day, we watch gray clouds wash over the lake. Thunder, like furniture being moved in the attic. Sun showers that sprinkle sunlight and raindrops, and a storm thudding in with the North wind, causing us to rush, panicked, to shut windows. Later, a barge crosses the lake in stately slowness just as clouds part, and the sun sets. I see a tall, black silhouette against the rosy light and think of the Greeks dreaming of the afterlife, and I think once some ancient poet saw a ferryman during such a sunset as this, and Lethe was born. There's a throbbing in my heart and a kind of peace as I watch the distant figure on the boat, facing away towards a far, misty shore.

pines grow on rocks, roots
clinging to hardness that they
may lap clear springs