Lakeside
Lakeside calls my feet. I flow down the hillside, as Words fall into lines. Running up the edge Like eager children and dogs The breeze wipes me clear. Now the words are gone. Valley-green, Water-blue, lake view, Reeds rustle and squawk. Summer’s Fire sky. Dogs pulling people, toward Sausage smells and bread. When the Air is still The water turns mirrored So we see the sky. Sand-path, Earth and rock; Trees gather into forest Where swamp frogs bellow. Blankets on couch grass Up green hills - shaded by trees - Where the readers, read. Houses all surround Quarry ghosts and flour mill - People come like bees. Lakeside artist tribe Viewing from the edge of things, Living between worlds. Above and below, Where the Water meets the Earth Stirred by Air and Sun We create the World. Leanne Margaret ©2018 P.S. A couple of years ago, 2014 I think, I read something about a style of Haiku that contained multipl