Lake Washington

Sweet tender alders
are drinking in sunlight
fanning out thin brunches into the skies
from the dark rancid mud and the graying dead grass.
the fireworks of the blossoming branches:
sakura, appletree, dogwood
crisscrossing the shady evergreen
in luminescent bold strokes
and the strange square stars
shimmer mysteriously as they cascade down still half-open.
The lake breathes evenly:
its bosom, shielded by steel and sapphire
rises and falls,
moist breath carnivorous, insatiable
(fish, weeds, herons and seagulls
are caught in the endless Brownian motion)
it clings to the shore
claws at its cold wet stones,
at the roots of the willow
yellowing in the anticipation of leaves -
and stops,
mesmerized by a tiny sparkle:
a daisy
in the grass.