Impressions, by Gregg Hake

The lake stood, undisturbed
Like a monk deep in prayer 
Or a thought not yet formed.
The surface waited to receive 
The impressions of the day
As stilly darkness darkness 
Ruled the face of the deep

I stood by the shore
Watching, waiting 
For the dawn’s first ripples
To reach the water’s edge. 
A fresh idea perhaps
Or the comfort of a loved one-
What will the day bring
And what shall I give?

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