the lakehouse

in this
place
soft breath
of morning
light
filters
gentle in,
floats down
to
waken

my
body
drowsy slow
to turn
and
rise
as
last night’s
dream
lays sweet
over
me

but
the distant
song
of waves
washes
over-
nudging
me
to
resting
turn

this
is my
home,
my
place of
refuge
in a
world
gone
wild

it is
only here
that
the cry
of the loon
insists it’s
time
to trust
my
heart

time
to
step
outside
and
leave new
footprints
in the
sand

Barbara Barry August 2016