Lake Song

One Sundays the lake comes forth with a different song. Things are quieter and the various sounds take on a more pronounced significance. I like to walk out on my dock and just stand and listen. A bird now and then adds a few shrill notes and leaves just enough silence between them to allow for anticipation of more. A fish now and then leaps and comes down kerplop to give tempo to the arrangement. The  hum of the power plant down the road is a constant and pleasing sound. Buzzing insects, the wind easing its way through summer branches, and the measured pumping of my oil well (just far enough away so as not to overwhelm the melody) all combine to form a near perfect harmony. I am transfixed by this Sunday tune.

Only the sweet voice of Dorothy calling me to lunch is enough to bring me out of my involvement in the music of the lake. A ham and cheese sandwich and a large sweet tea await.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle