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 along a blue sky.
Green algae lie peacefully with that ibis
Its one leg on the rock, its white double
In waters, doing its penance for the day.
The boatman scoops algae into the boat
From tiny ripple breaking him in pieces.
A dappled lake is all we are looking for.
Smoke curls beyond shore are not thing
Not a high point when sun plays hooky
Shore trees look inward,the eyes closed.