1
We sit
on smooth
moss rocks.
We talk.
The rain strikes
the lake
and each time,
each time
the lake
rises.

2
The wind
sprawls
down hills,
carves
the level back
of the lake:
a thousand
even terraces:
one sound.

3
The reeds
lie low
the full glare
of noon
the glass sheen
of water
not fresh
not cold.

Mike Forecki is a semi-retired attorney who lived in Eau Claire for over 30 years. Read more from Mike.

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