David Mallett Midnight On The Water
Midnight on the water, Sunday on the lake
A beaver or an otter, steals across a moonlit break
Foolish moth undaunted by the screen upon the door
Bumps his head, instead of leaving, comes on back for more
Choruses of cricket sounds, the car across the way
The dark of nite, the covers down, fond memories of the day
Potted plants, the dance of sweet ferns, shuffled by the breeze
The shadow of a bat's wing in the shelter of the trees
Northern lites that flicker, wicker chairs upon the lawn
A cool night in late summer and the still before the dawn
Wood smoke from the campfire, drifting slowly to the sky
The shimmer of a school of white perch, the spark of fireflies
Midnight on the water, sand and cedar air
A quiet place, your suntanned face, and summer in your hair
Boats and floats and wild oats growing sweet beside the spring
Midnight on the water and the owl is on the wing
