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Tiny mosquitoes, flitting 'round,
Yet behind me city sounds.
I gaze upon a peaceful lake,
Yet this does not the wild make.
The smells of water, scenes of duck,
Near to nature, what good luck.
Across the water, voices drift,
While roar of engines leaves a rift.
The sun sets in the evening sky,
With apartment towers in my eye.
This may not be the great wild North,
But tranquility does it bring forth.
And now, with each breath I take,
I thank the Creator, for this, Dow's Lake.
©2009 =cel3131
:iconcel3131:

Author's Comments

A little quickie poem I wrote while sitting on a bench on the shore of Dow's Lake this evening. I took a little bike ride out, because it's a gorgeous night, and I wanted to break in my new notebook. The photo is a photo of Dow's Lake that I took moments before writing this poem. I'll probably scrap this later, eventually... but eh, it's got reality in it, and I like that.

Funnily enough, Dow's Lake is actually man-made, even though my poem alludes otherwise. :lol: It was created when a dam was built to promote flooding for the building of the Rideau Canal. There used to be a swamp here before, called, creatively, Dow's Great Swamp.

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June 5
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