The Lifting Lake

I have been drawn again To the curve of a lake It's calming blue cradle Of keeping my cares at bay An open box of paints Brushstrokes against the canvas sky Up high the circling birds That know it best to nest Alongside the shore Called again to view the hanging moon Because it appears so close To capture in my hand's caress Or as I do sideline sit Near the open window breeze Might the night song sing to my soul Asked again to bundle my belongings And tie up loose ends of longing Leave behind where once a Mar(c) was burned Into the sadness of staying too long, alone Daring again to be the only thing I know to be Me, simply me, organic and authentic Then and there sunning my stitched together self In the promise of Springtime's coming crocus An evening's crystal constellations Learning again to lighten the load Of too much kept for no good reason And remembering to teach myself Tell myself once more looking ahead hurt less Hindsight belongs in a box Believing again a lake knows my secrets They have always had privy to my concealed desires And should the first night by the water's edge be bright My wings to open and lift me toward the moon glow of the lifting lake