I remember sitting around
that lake
in July
All of us together
How we used to sit on
the old wooden dock
or the fallen oak tree
at the edge of the water
We would bring blankets and
marshmallows and watch brilliant
oranges and purples bleed onto
the blank canvas that was the sky
There was no fishing then
The boys were little and too
impatient so we all
just sat and it was nice
We would dangle our feet
in the icy, cerulean water
and it felt like sticky worms
and fine silk all at once
The lake was like velvet
rich and soothing and regal
and so soft it was always
begging to be touched
It smelled like dead fish
and hot chocolate and the
crisp air wrapped itself around
us like newly ironed sheets
I remember
how the lake always sparkled and
the laughter echoed for miles
and we always got splinters from the dock