The shoreline meanders and we with it
skimming rocks across the sleepy water,
murmuring to each other,
our voices hushed as we watch
for the shimmery flash
of fish surfacing
to snatch an evening meal.

In the distance a solitary fisherman
casts off,
the silken thread from his reel
spinning out into the lake,
offering a too-easy dinner
for any fish lazy or foolish enough
to accept.

Dragonflies slice the air, and the deep,
rhythmic croaking of frogs surrounds us.
We lie on the grassy bank,
pluck a blade to chew (me) or whistle (you),
and turn our faces toward God.

As we close our eyes, we open our hearts,
and drop this sunny day
into the open pockets of our memory.