The water of the lake is black.
Not a single star shines on its mirror.
The trees are black
drinking the black water of the lake.
Outlines of black silhouettes
stir in its silent bloom.
A lift of white rises from
the flat water lilies.
Just enough to keep
me from leaving.
They too whisper their sad
memories of darkness.
The depths of the lake
call in their blackness
the fishes school in shadows.
The night calls its whispers.
Now a stars reflection flickers
in the lily patch.
Such moments are harbingers
of a cold world in darkness.