The Elysian Fields

the lake
By Everett A Warren
August 15, 1992

cool breeze from the water
as the sun hides in the trees
a path of golden light drawn from afar
to end by my feet
waves rushing endless to come to their end
against the stone i perch upon

melodies of ancient song shimmer in sylvan twilight
rising from the woodlands at my back
and so i wander by the side of a stream
to a patch where berries abound
where the trees stand scarred by mighty claws
and quickly i move on with a thought
to what might carve grooves in the birches above my arms reach

through the ferns and over fallen limbs
to a cut in the trees made by man to string his power
there in the twilight
growth on fallen trees and the rocks glows with preternatural strength
homage to the might of Wilderness

and then through the darknening sky
soar the cries of the loon and the whipporwill
haunting
eerie
calling from the water

and so to the shore i return
to watch the sun descend
leaving moon and stars above
to shine and reflect
on the surface
of pocomoonshine

Copyright (c) 1992 Everett A Warren