Margins

Do you remember
The silent silver shingle
Of the lakeside
where waves ripple
Beneath the grey peaks.
The wind whispers
Through the frail leaves
Of the leaning silver birch
As the swan flotilla
Is tinged with sunset pink
At evening
Floating on the mountain
Reflected on the water.
Along the margins
We catch our breath.

JL Jan 5. 11:58. M