POETRY

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Whose lake is this, I think I know,
It belongs to all who cherish it so,
And I am one, who loves it dearly.
I live for these moments, because, clearly,
There is nothing else on earth that soothes me,
Like my time heavenly.
One on one with all things that come naturally,
There is a peacefulness here that thrills me,
The only occasional sound you hear is a fish,
Announcing—I’m quite near.
And the ever present Loon sings Oooooo,
And then I just know what to do.
Turn this canoe around toward home,
For soon darkness is sure to come,
And I must, by then, be close to home,
And I must, by then, be close to home.

By Christine Ann Saunoris, Lake Geneva

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