LAKE

It’s a large lake and veers around. The ducks do their thing; seem to always be cleaning off their feathers. Two types of seagulls wait there if you look closely, - the white ones, - and the ones that are a bit speckled, that have light brown flecks on their wings. Behind, when the feathers are sprawled out, - they can appear esoteric, different, like some kind of strange sub species of hawk. People are hypnotized by the hype, and thus are down on seagulls, always have been maybe, - but not me. I think of Jonathan Livingston Seagull for instance, - now there is a seagull, and I have always identified w/him. So there is one, like him,- that has left the others and comes across the sky whilst I am looking out at the line the edge of the lake makes, and the clouds, and the sun that interrupt and then penetrates the puff quite nicely as if to send a ray down from another realm. There he goes.

Other than that,- the long and wide boardwalk, the old homes from the 1970’s and even

before, some still there, next to the new ones,- monsterish, full of bragging, overdone, gauche- but what can you do?- that is the way it goes. It would take a calm, even, and rare man or woman or combination to have the money to build to the sky yet the maturity to keep it regular. I am not talking about being falsely humble, or being a pauper- but living well but somehow without the show. Like a woman, think of a woman- there are two women, - one is full of rouge, jewels, so on- and it’s all to catch the eye, hers and others. One is understated- she does not have to go like a hippie, like a new Eve- and even perhaps has some makeup. It’s the latter in her summer dress, or even pants, - that is prettier.

So the sky is up and the earth is down and the people, - the folks, - they are all around. I wonder what it’s like when it storms there. The flowers and shrubs, the trees and small areas of grasses, sometimes foil or juxtapose the water when seen from the right angle. There are fishermen, kayaks, more ducks, loons, the little birds also that fly overhead of it all and appear from the distance like specks, like mosquitoes with speed. It’s not a bad body of water, - and I look once before heading out, - and notice that the wind and/or small tide is bringing over the water to make ripples and that the ripples for the play of sun and rock and sand, of day and angle and sky and other, - appear golden. 

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