One brisk, yet warm November day
I paused, set down my rake,
And took a moment to look upon
The quiet, sleeping lake.

Its face was still and smooth as glass
As far as I could see,
And not a soul was there to watch,
Not one, apart from me.

I stood there silent, calm, at peace
Until the moment passed,
Then stooped to take back up my rake
And turn back to my task.

I know not long I lingered there,
Upon that rocky shore,
But oh, how I wish I could return
And linger there some more.