At the water’s edge, a ripple plays,
its resounding circles drift far aside;
some creature’s plunge of unseen gaze,
now breaks the stillness in gentle tide.
At the water’s edge, ‘ere reeds are cast,
piercing the liquid glass of this lake;
in shadowed crest, ‘ere algae holds fast,
the minnows run with sunless wake.
At the water’s edge, a breath of spring,
a pirate lily, stretched o’er the surface,
touches the water with its tendril fling,
and plies to water’s edge its purpose.