The Lake

The lake’s a silent lady

She doesn’t whisper or stir

She just watches and waits

With an expression calm and clear.

 

The flowers on the bank

Curtsy to the wind

While the weeds nodding vigorously

Deny that they have sinned

 

Further up, in the grass

Suddenly, a snake strikes

At a heedless, unwary traveler

Who’s careless of where he hikes.

 

The lake drinks in the scene

With her shrewd penetrating glance

And then, having satisfied that all is well

Falls back in a meditative trance.