Moonlight fingers drift toward the shore
running through the soft waves
tickling the slow moving boats
where lovers embrace in the darkness.

Alone on the silver beach
I listen to the night time waltz,
the gentle roll of the waves washing the shore
the last crickets to survive into the fall
the wind moving the skeletal arms of the oak that serves as my back rest.

I stare across the obsidian surface
wondering what wonders lie beneath
life beyond my touch
beyond my eyes.

I envy the black water
so free moving,
touching two states,
living in both
and neither.

It seems that even on the darkest of nights
the moonlight touches its surface
the waves making pictures of it
all the while looking like finger tips
reaching out to touch the world
the moonlight fingers of my beautiful lake.

09/27/2004

Posted on 09/28/2004
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