like a little lake, for instance

For instance,

's a mysterious lake that the morning mist makes in the clean waking hour of dawn

geese flying overhead ducks heads in their shoulders as men mow the lawn down

and I sit apart from it all

the pin oak the red oak, the drying up dead oak, been here through impossible times

but the lake as new as the morning dew, and men, just a blip in the books

and I find it hard to believe

the young girl the strong girl, the drying up old man, passing each other in stride

red neck-striped turtle just floats in the surface, all dressed up with nothing to know

and the sun stronger shines through the steam

round and round the heat is hot, fine gravel crunch beneath jogging feet shoes

a pocket of wild in parking lot country, and closing in quick, they say

- the world isn't over - just the world that you knew

and it hasn't a name you can fight

and it isn't much wrong or much right.