Barbara Bloom

Leaving Kingston

At the end of the city street where I expect to find another building, the asphalt gives way and opens up to a view of the lake. I stand there looking. Looking without taking another step. That’s the way it always is for me. The water is always a surprise.

          open lake
my thoughts pause
                   empty

I pause knowing in a month I’ll be living Kingston to live in the mountains of Arizona.

It’s twilight. The water so still and silhouettes of the trees so fine that their reflection rim the shoreline. There is no wind. Just me breathing in and out to satisfy my need for immobility.

Finally I turn away from the lake to face the streets, returning to walk to the library just a block ahead. But after several steps I stop, turn and look behind, afraid the view has dissolved. Faded into my imagination like a mirage.

I’m relieved to see it is still there, only changed. The gentle grays have burst into golden pink and lilac of the fading sun.

After I leave this town, this street will do it again.  Someone else will stop here and stand still with wonder because the asphalt has ended revealing just the sky and the water.

remaining still
the lake reflects shadows
moving on