Labor Day Sunday Poem

Sunday, Labor Day Weekend, September 2, 2012 The forecast clouds disappeared, and the sky appeared (and brought humidity) blue sky blue reflected on the waves and in the wake of boats on the private Michigan lake, where I grew up in two residences on the same lake over thirty-six years ago. Thirty-six years. And as I lean back in a white chair with cushions and held my knees up to my chest, I felt this place for the first time, I felt displaced for the first time as we no longer have our physical space. And the lake seemed to respond to my sorrow as we listened to the man playing "Taps" with a bugle on the lake into my sentiment and my heart sank in tandem with the sunset. And I gazed up at the afterglow of a recent full moon on the lake with its reflection on the water through blurred vision, a single tear cascading down my left cheek.

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