Joseph James Breunig 3rd
bfont color=#000000Evening at Bunganut Lake/font/b
A loon with its solitary cry,
pierces the stillness of the night;
its voice proclaims its domain of serenity
over the pine-tree enclosure of Bunganut Lake.
The lonely birds calls for contenders
to dispute its watery authority,
for those within earshot range.
After each shout, tranquility’s silence
responds with an answer of “no reply”,
until the next challenge is issued.
The eerie timbre of the loon cry
may cause me to shiver, but…
There’s no place at night I’d rather remain.
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