Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Between the Two

On Labor Day the lake is suddenly abandoned but my father likes to leave on early Tuesday crack of dawn instead.

Monday evening I walk the shore and sit on docks and rafts now stacked on land and look out on an empty lake.

It feels like winter melting summer into nothing but a blank reflection of a vacant sky.

On this cusp, I rise. Between the love of summer and void of winter stands I.

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