At the lake

It’s nice to sit at West Lake for breakfast. Vietnamese iced coffee and a smashed avocado with bacon, tomato and egg on toast. It’s a cool morning here. The lake is always beautiful and peaceful even when storms alight and the rain falls. I’ve walked back in the rain so many times and glimpsed West Lake with the sun falling between lightning and thunder and rain. I would say it’s majestic and powerful and elemental here.

Now at the lake it’s peaceful and writing here this morning is a transcription of going and stopping and always still searching. The lake funnels back feelings across its depth and length. I can sit and only see. It’s a peaceful meditation this Friday at the lake. With the coffee.

There’s no rush ever to go or stop. At the lake mornings blend to afternoon and then an evening and night will show. Sun setting. Night arising.

At the lake. I can write silent poetry but it falls short sometimes like pictures. The picture on my iPhone captures one moment in time. Moments transcend all that.

And it leaves me in peace and stillness. This lake.