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.
