A night at my lake


Evening at Bunganut Lake

A loon with its solitary cry,
pierces the stillness of the night;
its voice proclaims its domain of serenity
over the pine-tree enclosure of Bunganut Lake.
The lonely bird calls for contenders
to dispute its watery authority,
for those within earshot range.
After each shout, tranquility’s silence
responds with an answer of “no reply”,
until the next challenge is issued.
The eerie timbre of the loon cry
may cause me to shiver, but…
There’s no place at night I’d rather remain.


Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/




Poetry by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd
Read 475 times
Written on 2007-04-25 at 14:00

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