Soft fog is silent atop Lake Samish

The sleepy water snores against its shore

Glacier waters bounce off rock-face

leaping down into the warm bed like cold feet.

The lake sits as milk on the bottom of the bowl

A ring of jagged evergreens holds it all down

I squint and the view is a painting

with no middle. Canvas unfinished. Brushes rest.

Difficult to capture―the artist saves it for last.