By
Elnora
Palmtag
The lake is shrouded in mystery.
Mist is rising up and the leaves are rustling,
As the sun breaks above the canopy.
No one is here to share this beauty with me,
So I break out in a song, which, thankfully,
No one can hear.
Oh, no!
The birds are complaining.
There are critics everywhere.
Dare I continue in my serenade
Or should I observe
And let nature resume its peaceful awakening.
Oh, hell, no!
Censorship may be everywhere else,
But here I am queen of this time and place.
I will sing if I want and the critics be damned.
My cacophony of caterwauling has just begun.
(Inspired by Terrence Lane Millet, English instructor at Linn
Benton College)
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