The setting sun casts a golden glow,
Over the lake which tranquil like a floor,
At twilight, freshly the breeze blows from the river,
And birds busy along the shore.
Far out, a fishing boat drifts and turns, and busily
Casting and hauling its nets which resurface,
Before we know it, quietly the crescent moon sinks,
And gently waves ripple across its surface.
(Apr. 18th, 2024, Kinsley Lee)