Monday, August 26, 2013

Mirror Lake (Poem 146)

Reflected in a lake,
The mountains.
Hot wind stirs up 
The needles and the dust.
Emma Bovary with me
On the blanket.
Sizzling on a stick, 
A tender trout.

Does the lake
Still mirror that
Bald mountain?
Does the breeze still
Smell of pine and dust?
Do wild Browns still
Spawn far up that
River? Or did 
Our paradise go
The way of us?

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six