“At The Lake” by L. K. Thayer

Photo by L. G. Pratt

Photo by L. G. Pratt (me in the center ring)

we rode upon broomstick horses
galloping through the thick thorn forest
dragonflies hovering
plucking the plumpest raspberries
ripe and sweet, from crowded bushes
generously heaving

inexhaustible, our imaginations followed
every footprint
our shadows danced, lit by the man in the moon
we left no stone or cartwheel unturned
felt the moss squish between our stubbed toes
washed our feet in the sand of the blue lake
gleaming

she was always there to greet us
the lake, loyal and lucid
the sound of her
reassuring shore beckoned
waiting to cup us in her watery hand
guiding us
float our dog paddling cherub bodies
teaching us
as her loving waves caressed
our rosebud cheeks

beautiful, bountiful, bliss filled summers
roll off my memory like pearls dropping
one by one, off a necklace in need of repair
memories, I gather up and tuck safely in a jewel box
just as my grandmother Audrey would’ve done

in the dense lilting air
mosquito bitten arms wave
in remembrance of innocence
of youth unencumbered

the balmy summers of nature’s breast
beating like the wings of a morning dove
soft, gentle, humid
clinging to the child
in all of us

L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

One comment

  1. Aj Benza · October 1, 2009

    Quite beautiful. xo

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