I smell the raw, earthly scent of this lake
smell the brine
smell the salt flake off of the fish
smell the cottony fallen feathers
fallen frivolously off the fowl
I feel a sense of home
a sense of being sane
Haven’t felt sane or the same
Haven’t felt
Sane
A tickle with each breeze
Hair not irritating my cheeks
It’s gentle like a lover’s caress.
The twilight sky readying me for the night.
Sky paints color on a black canvas
Off white stars speckle the backdrop
All is quiet
If only I could ignore
the fools galavanting on the pier
It’s silent as they dissolve
into the horizon
The end of the pier is immediate
Behind me, an evanescence with the fools and fowl.
I’m one with the dramatic horizon.
He is dotting his last bit
the part of sky becoming orange and pink
I’m caught up
feeling modestly voyeuristic
Pink splattering my face
matching the hot pinks above me
I’ve been distracted
like so many times before
Amazed at last
I’m caught up
in this heavy sensation
I’m becoming as elusive as this sun setting.
Dawning Creations 
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