On the Surface of the Water

Soft ripples in reflections
of the shore and the ridge behind it
create a fluctuating barcode
on the surface of the water.

You row by a tree trunk doing a headstand
in the middle of the lake.
Its body leans at a 60-degree angle.
As you approach, you find
several large nails hammered into it,
abandoned.

You stop rowing,
watch drops of water fall from your paddle,
the growing ripples trail behind you.

A subtle breeze over still water,
which changes color
in the clear reflections of
the green ridge,
the blue mountain,
the brown shore.

You travel through
a village of stumps in the lakebed,
decapitated a century ago.
Their raised roots spread like spider legs.
Footholds are carved in their trunks.

On your way back,
you see two motorboats descend the ramp.
You hear them start,
see them speed to the opposite side of the lake—
still audible once out of view.

The reflection of the mountain
becomes a pale static.