Bear Lake 10pm

Flowing with purple -
the lake greets me with
wild indigo fingers lifted
to the setting sun.
A ripple of orange passes lightly across
the face, shivering with chill.
Town grows into dark, leaning shadows, refracting
noises across the lake into eerie cat-calls
and echoing booms that quiet quickly. Pine
and boat fuel tang my first night home.
There is no one near. The lake lies
smooth, seldom wrinkled
as perch and dogfish
poke holes that swirl and cast
light upon the shore
and upon me.

Not many can catch that light
and carry it like a torch
flashing through the quiet midnight.
We press on, not hopeful
no longer filled with regret.