The
lake echoes waves that melt to the shore
To
deluge with fine sand, soggy green seaweed,
Slippery
smooth pebbles and the petite shells
Of
tiny crustaceans, their edges sharp as glass
Shine
white to glint silver sparkling in the sun.
Deadfall,
now long smooth driftwood logs
Scatter,
inland to rest solid in higher sand
Like
pews set in nature’s vast holy ground
To
serve as seats for the weary who wander the shore.
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