Clearlake, California. A Well Remembered Day by Christine Bassett



I wake to see the stars

gently fading in the dawn.

The pale moon has lost its shine.

I feel the soft, cool grass beneath my back

but I stir against the hard, cold earth.

Here there is no chorus to greet the morn,

but the sun rises swiftly, bringing warmth.


I stand, and then walk towards the lake,

bathe in the chill waters of the night

and so the day begins.

Ghostly echoes of Gregorian Chant

call me to the old chapel ruins.

I step inside and touch Virginia Creeper

which clings to the cloisters.


It is peaceful, as I wander through the ruins,

thinking of those who once lived and prayed here,

but the heat becomes oppressive,

so I return to the lakeside.

I wade into the cool, clear waters

and sit upon a rock beneath the trees

to rest and contemplate.


At this moment I am unaware

that this beautiful, peaceful place

will become a great tourist attraction,

the lake will be raped by water skiers,

the trees cut down to make way

for hotels and condominiums

and I shall never return.


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