#84 Stands on a Still Night

Lake Huron
Glass smooth
Looking like a second sky
Reflecting the stars
The aurora borealis
And a night flight of geese

I stand at it's edge
Toes curled in the sand
The odd rock resting against my foot
The sand cool
Long since having shed
The warmth of the day's sun
Here on the shore
Of this great black looking glass

"Who is the fairest one of all?"
I ask it
There is no answer
It's not that kind of looking glass

I choose a flat stone
And throw it sidearm
Out into the inky stillness
It skips
One, two, three, four
Then ever decreasing tiny bounces
Bunched together
Until it sinks beneath
The flat reflective plane

Ripples extend from what I've done
Going
Going
Getting fainter
Until the surface is glass once more

I gaze down at the second sky
Smiling at it's beautiful duplicity

A shooting star crosses the sky

I make a wish