I love to see the surface of a lake, smooth as glass--
unbroken by nothing more than my reflection, gazing over it.
A field of grass in the morning,
still beneath the silver sheen left by last night’s moon—
the clear sky, cold and dark.
No steps yet there--mine alone to enjoy.
that there should be a child, splashing, calling out,… and laughing.
Tells me these places are loved—
and will be saved for years to come.