Morning dew dots the blades
Of grass along the path.
Step by footstep to the lake
Dawn’s tears leave wet swaths.
Yawning wide the lake decides
The dock sits where it needs.
Like an arm outstretched inside
The depth of Lake’s watery heartbeat.
Witness to life and laugh and love
To generations of many moons
Young feet, small hands that reach above
To hold old hands, their feet worn down.
The lake never blinks or pauses.
The hands and feet grow old.
New life comes and old life has
Left to join dewy ethereal folds.
Lapping at the dock the lake
Sees feet come and go with time.
Never knowing who is going to take
Their last walk from the shoreline.
The Lake knows each visitor by their toes
Perhaps their voice, their laugh.
It knows each visitor by their soul
By the lasting imprint they have cast.
~ by Emily Clapper