For today’s Poetics prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, Ingrid urged us to “write the poetry of the places and/or spaces which inspire you the most.” What a wonderful prompt for the first sunny spring day of 2023 here at Lake Tapps.

Once Upon a Lake Tapps Spring

Today the Mountain peeks from behind the clouds
like a coquette behind a fan flirting with her eyes.
She catches mine from across the still lake,
reflecting clouds with slight ripples, offset
like a panoramic image poorly seemed.

The sun shines so a saw blade growls,
a fishing boat cuts the shallow water,
and a dark-eyed junko atop a budding rhododendron
announces spring.

I say hello to a fat, fuzzy,
orange and yellow bumble bee
on the purple heather.
He chases me buzzing bigly.
When he’s gone, I return to the heather
and I’m surprised to smell licorice.

The lake is rising, fed by the river,
fed by the melting mountain snow,
but sits at the bottom of the ramp.
The water is so clear. I can see every rock,
every striation of every rock,
fuzzy clumps of algae on and around the rocks.
I put my fingers in.

The water’s cold but doesn’t bite.
I smell my fingers expecting fish and decay,
but smell nothing.
I scoop the water in my palm,
but still nothing.
Fresh nothing like the air.

I pick up a large white feather from the grass.
Its stiff stem is clear. I can see into it
to another layer where the feather begins.
Shed from an eagle’s tail, or the wing of a goose or a swan?
I am never without bird possibilities.

The lake is choppy now.
Sun glinting on the tiny waves is almost blinding,
but I don’t want to look away.
Strange yells pull my attention
across the lake. A man bounds from his house,
I think he is suffering, is panicking,
but he returns to his house calmly,
having chased the geese back to the lake.
My eyes return to the blinding sparkles.