A Morning On Kentucky Lake Poem by D. S. Jones

The day begins with a foggy morning;
light is distilled across the lake as
silhouetted trees surround a primeval scene.
The lake- slate blue as the fog lazily lifts
revealing an egret, like an ancient relic,
with feet submerged in the cold waters edge.
Beneath my feet the sweet gums golden stars
damply scattered; I step out to greet the day
with a cup of tea in hand, and,
I draw my heavy sweater closer
whether to keep the warmth in or
the damp out, I don't know.
Steam rises from my cup like my breath and
it is held momentarily in the air
before it disappears like magic.
It is quiet here,
even the soft ripples on the lake are languid
Peace has penetrated all living things it seems.
Then I remember its October again
the month of changes.
Costumed trees in colors bright
have begun to dance across these Kentucky hills,
yet, this morning the colors stand muted in the fog.
I take a sip of warm liquid amber and
this unscripted day has now begun,
just as the egret's wings lift his body
and takes flight.