Lakeside Dream

Lured to the moon-splashed ledge by silver streaks of valorous fish leapt to trace the slow sloped parabola of atmosphere, I reach the liquid and let the curious crests grope my naked feet, muddied from midday rain still gathered on the trail leading back home in puddles held by a void. A distant train lumbering, I hear the Earth’s quiet sigh, a groan of age burdened by youth, a mother’s pain to find her son swapped her Buick for shoes and dirty socks. The imprint of heavy tread traces the path to sleep the woken refuse, where I’ve chosen to crush the tin-can instead. The light on the train through a strengthening shower.