The Lake

The lake spread olive in the trees,
all silent, and all alive, and all alone
A bay rather with stones at its door,
where the big river enters and leaves

Some frogs singing their tunes in threes,
while all living things turn green like melon
And as my foot goes another step forth,
a dragonfly appears from among the leaves

Sun at the waving water spreading its light,
inticing with the promise of warm fire
A moment as you turn on the pear,
as if it will have happened to appear