Light and camera

Lake’s  brown is mush and green algae,
The shadows a high point near the boats,
With men rowing time, a noon in  clouds
Plain white stuff lolling in a blue sky.

Those algae lie peacefully with an  ibis
Its one leg on a rock, its white double
In waters, doing penance for the day.
The boatman scoops up algae  into boat
From a ripple breaking him in pieces.

A dappled lake is all we are looking for.
Smoke curls beyond shore are  not our thing
Not a high point when the sun  plays hooky.
Shore trees look inward, their eyes closed.


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