She stands at the shore of the lake,
looking for the lake mother,
grandmother had told her about.
Maybe she is hiding in the deepest
middle part of the lake,
which is bottomless, of course.
Froth squiggles back and forth.
She imagines that it is sea foam,
washing the shores of a huge ocean,
splashing and frothing,
all over her black rubber boots,
the ones with a thin red strip
at the bottom,like bloodsuckers.
A wet wind sprays her face,
offers a greeting, as the trees
encircling the lake send a welcome.
She grasps a deep fried donut in one hand,
a specialty made by the woman
of the first built house,
and a thin branch stick in the other,
with which,she writes storys in the waters.
This little girl senses that
she will be really happy
for many seasons of years to come,
just standing on this shoreline.
The lake mother knows this and smiles

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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