Evening At Bunganut Lake Poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
Evening At Bunganut Lake
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.
Author Notes
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © All rights reserved.
Author/poet, Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
Loons do seem to be the voice of the night, as you mention here. Would that everyone could hear that cry at least once to understand what we are driving from the world. Long live the wild.
you are so lucky joseph to be so close to nature...lesser mortals like me have almost lost touch with nature except in the mind...i must be loony not to hear the loon call...love...nalini
Sounds like a nice place to be. I love nature, too. Nice poem. Sincerely, Connie Webb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:39:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I hear a whisper of a nature lover's sad heart! Splendid Joseph.