On Butterfield Lake


Awakened gently by the song of the locals
that serenade each wave,
we contentedly hesitate to stir
from our relaxed state.

The scent of the coming feast,
prepared by our generous hostess,
comes from the kitchen
and meanders its way
to our sleeping quarters.

Swaggering, we sleepily anticipate
the smorgasbord placed before us
as if breakfast fulfilled
desired prophecies.

The tender sprinkling
of the sun in the morning
baptizes the day in warmth
by noon when our agendas commence.

Afternoon fades into dusk
and we return to the chalet
where forms of lore, literature and film
entertain until sirens of slumber call to us
once more.

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