This morning, the lake was calm,
flat and smooth, a fresh washed
sheet
on a bed newly made, pulled tight, inviting
slumber, and before the Spirit of
Hebron
could rouse the waters to rise up,
frenzied,
six loons floated by, silent and
slow,
their wake behind them
a wrinkle barely breaking the
surface.
(not an actual picture of Hebron that morning; just one I found on line)
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