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.