Lakeside

The water looks lovely at 6:30
in the evening, calm
and collected upon the shores.

Black holes fluttering as flocking
black-bird flights find their way
to powerlines.

Running children with red faces
flushed from fast play are rushed
home come sunfall, sending shots
of fog against car windows,

Fisherman cast out their lines,
buckets of bait sitting at their side
as they reel in the moonrise.

Couples coupled under oaks
counter-prostrate, unwelcome
and unwanted with the heat
of sundown sundered with
starlight.

He stands and helps his lover
off the ground - together they leave
holding hands in the heat.

I sit upon a tree that reaches out
above the shore, each branch like
penitent fingers as they beg for more.

My reflection dimmed and shaken by
waves and I feel elated as the heavens
open to me and I see the whiteness
and blackness, the evening mending
itself with swiftness.