It is early in the morning,
the quietest time.
A mist blankets the water,
shrouding it from me.
The watery sun cannot yet
penetrate this velvety cover.
Ghostly wings break through
when, without a sound,
ducks rise and fly across the
lake
A craggy outcrop sits up
high, with a tree-hidden
bench on which to sit and
gaze and gaze and gaze.
I can hear the lapping of the
water below, where
flowers are trapped and
bobbing amongst the rocks,
in memory of others who have
loved this place
Dew makes a sparkling cloth
on the grassy path.
The air is still damp and
without warmth.
There is nothing but the grey
and silver.
No insects are awake to buzz
or dart about me,
I am quite alone in a silent,
still and soft land.
The quiet is broken by the
call of a gaggle of geese
returning for breakfast.
Soon hoards of people will
arrive to admire this view.
They will break the surface
of the water with dipping oars
But for me, for now
It is early in the morning,
the quietest time.
This is lovely, Carol, and your photos are so atmospheric too.
ReplyDeleteThank you. My photos turn out more by good luck than anything else!
ReplyDeleteThis is very atmospheric Carol. That early morning peace and calm broken only by the geese calling and the thought that this beautiful place will soon be 'spoilt' by the hordes arriving! Lovely
ReplyDeletethanks Trish
ReplyDelete