A hush upon the water lies,
Beneath the hush of cloud-brushed skies.
No crashing wave, no ocean call—
Just stillness wrapped around it all.
The lake, a mirror dark and deep,
Where mountains pause and willows sleep.
It holds the stars when night draws near,
And keeps the silence crystal-clear.
Its breath is slow, its heart is wide,
A secret place where dreams may hide.
The wind may touch it, soft and light,
Then vanish like a ghost in flight.
I walk the edge, my thoughts held fast
By ripples whispering of the past.
The reeds sway low, the herons glide,
And time forgets to pass or chide.
Not wild like seas, not fierce or grand,
But shaped with care by patient hand.
The lake is where the quiet grows—
A place the restless spirit knows.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and light,
Brenda Marie
Discover more from Writing Through the Soul
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
