A Lake in Oregon

By Mitch Cohen

“Lingering Leaves” Credit: Courtesy of Connie Borup ©  

1

At evening an old angler

greets us in rolled sleeves

and gestures past the lake he comes up from:

yonder long folds of earth rising.

Snow deep down the sides clear through June,

he says, proud like he’d snowed it himself.

Now only peak shadows hold white

Bridgeheads for winter.

A still face, creased below white wisps.

“Mirrored Tranquility” Credit: Courtesy of Connie Borup ©

2

A slight purling wash

plays the bound of pebbled shore. 

Gnat clouds at pier’s end

as the cool sets in.

You, sprightly, here and there,

with your camera, seeing pictures;

I’m braiding these lines to hold us fast.

“Rocks and Ripples” Credit: Courtesy of Connie Borup ©

Film full, page full:

our crafts to fuse the hour through

to hours that come, prepared for here.

This served up to look on, then,

in albums, catching this waning light.

“Floating” Credit: Courtesy of Connie Borup ©