Far away

Gold-fins  in the lake
watching water boatmen
rowing to the lily pad, the heavy air,  
sweating beneath the midday sun,
willows drooping to the bank
drinking deep, fail to raise their branches.
Sentinel poplars, fight the heat
limp and tired ,no breeze to stir the leaves,
as Jack dreams mountain streams.
 
Nothing moved, urgent work unheeded.
I kissed the placid lake, drank the welcome nectar,
joining  the dreaming dog and mountain streams
far away and long ago, more distant as hours pass
beauty more than gold fins, naked to the early moon
as  silver light cooled  my sweating brow.