Looming mists of fog
descend upon the trees.
The water sits like glass;
exempt from all the fees
of nature; like the butterfly,
who's wing become the sound
of a morning on Lake Rabun
when no one is around.
Crickets in the distance
and the birds they hold the tune
of generations; past and present,
like the cycles of the moon.
Humming motors meet the lake;
waves crashing at the shore.
I feel it in my soul again,
just like the times before.
Fish come to the surface
to nibble on my toes,
as I reflect on all this beauty
that leaves me without woes.
I could spend my life here,
awaiting a peaceful end;
where happiness and nostalgia
wait around the bend.