Waves come one anew, each one as fresh as the last one telling of other parts of the lake, some from a midlakes rock strewn reef, some from a distant shore, the bashful ones roll over on themselves, the ones with attitude toss spray in your face, they all keep the fish’s secrets secret, in any either case, they’re doing some wet and wild talking.
In the same winds, not to be outdone, the leaves get to chattering tree top high, sometimes so fast it’s hard to even understand, I mean, what’s all the fluttering about. What ya say, you’re bringing lazily drifting clouds, or is it you’re taking all them mammatus pouches away, slow down now quaking branches, it’s hard enough to hear as it is, when it blows hard, they’re difficult to understand.
A gull mid lake, untethered feathered kite making me so jealous, what it must feel like to float in it, instead of it just brushing past my face. Such a wonder.
And as the wind blows it makes me move as well, I take a look over my shoulder, so long waves in the wind, until another day I guess, but I’ll be back, just as sure as that next waves coming ashore.
- The Trout Whisperer
