A Winter Lake.

Silent naked trees looked down From their dew covered banks, Staring back, their shadows. The morning winter bright sun Reflecting their gaze. The dark waters stood listless Heavy and absurd without myriads Of waterbirds tiptoeing gently as They awkwardly land. The lake, now black with winters Bleakness. Sleepy winds not yet Woken and stand breathless In pregnant anticipation. Apart from rising wisps of Thin translucent morning mist. A solitary swan guards its empire Its only companion, a reflection that Faithfully follows every move. The only movement is from the feeder Stream seeking company. Summers reeds point skywards like Stalks of cast iron rods frozen in time Waiting patiently to decompose. Crisp packets, beer cans and tiny Plastic particles trespass the bank, Discarded without thought of their impact. The lake slowly waits patiently for Spring To breath new life and purpose, and the Return of waterbirds from their winter Vacation and above all - people.