Ripples are quiet. The lake surface swells.
All light on light. A solitary bat swoops and lurches

Into flight over water so bright that breath might seize.
From underneath the point that marks this cove

We see the murky seep to channel depth,
How night wells up the nearer side of slow, liquid rolls.

How breathing starts. Then stops. Then starts again.

--previously appeared in Scribble, 2007