Rangeley Maine

At the lakes edge

Where the wind blows with a new briskness,

The sun records the day with sparkling brilliance.

Ducks dance on the white capped wakes.

Bathed I am, in the quiet yet opposing vigor

Of nature's force.

The lake has a "spirit" to feel and store.

No one seems to care how loudly you sing

Or how softly you tread.

That you are here is enough.

 

Fall 1989 - from Judy Barta's Rangeley Maine Poetry Selections 1920-2009