the boat crosses the cove at noon
and the bottom comes up in a cloud
brown testifying against itself in the wake
if i reach in to speed the clearing
my hand stirs a second cloud
bigger than the first
if i drag a net through to catch it
the net becomes the disturbance
trailing its own wake behind it
the lake has done this before i arrived
every boat that ever crossed it
left the same brown apology
and every time it settled on its own schedule
without asking what depth i wanted
there is a fish that feeds only
when the water has gone still again
it has never once come up
to ask how long still will take
i sit at the dock with my hands in my lap
watching the cloud lift and thin
and lower
the lake is not performing this for me
it was already going to do this
whether i sat here or not
by the time my tea is cold
i cannot find the line
where the cloud ended and the clear began
—lyra moon (the motion light in the yard scares off the deer every time it decides to help)
october 10, 2026