Black as ink the lake extends.
As still as night it sits.
Low grey clouds obscure the sun.
Colour is reduced, greyness wins.
Its cold tentacles enfold my soul and body.
Its icy fingers enclose my form.
All that moves are the ripples from
the tears as they drip silently into the water.
Silent, expanding ripples as I sit alone on the jetty.
The moon blinks its way onto the world.
The clouds part and the countryside below
is cloaked in its soft silvery light.
Edges are no longer sharp but rounded.
Life is much softer.
A quiet descends.
Sounds that are usually masked by the
shrill and busyness of the day
can be heard once more.
Far off sounds travel further.
That is you.
Wherever I am.
Whatever I do.
Your peace is there.