A Varnished House

The lake is surrounded by burnt-orange grass that bends. The sparse light rain drops make perfect circles on the glassy dark water. They widen until they sleekly, slyly disappear. The lake mirrors the late afternoon: dried-apricot clouds from which peek a chilled soft blue, a worn trodden campsite; evergreen pine needles soft as worn spandex next to a shiny house. And the sun-light shifts the early Autumn sky, steeped in the still-reaching fingers of Summer. This civil landscape is a captive of a watercolor, from a nomadic palette. The varnished brown house.. a lumberjack..his ax, a bronze age tool for civilization. A stormy, ancient wilderness.