The water's so calm now,
It is shimmering glass,
Random fish kisses visit from below,
Eas'ly missed, they're so fast,
My shadow's long, even sitting down low,
Warmth on my other side,
Few are awake to see this other lake,
Still, too many to proclaim it as mine.
There is one resting there in a dinghy,
Shirt off, hands behind head,
More walk the shore as I write what I see,
Others listen from bed,
For what's not there,
Like the roar of the waves.
Oh, what's missed by those who participate,
Just in the bustl-ing part of the day!
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