Sun kissed giants,

Igneous and old,

Engulf the lakes as their drinking ponds.

Slumbering green and scree

Scarred in place by ice.

 

A tied up launch at the rotting jetties

rocks to and fro,

until the spring comes.

The gulls flock madly above

leafless woods.

 

The lake is high this year from

too much ice, snow and rain.

The wind blows collective

debris yet the leaden

waters are tame.

 

Frost bites at crags and ghylls,

while sparsely cottaged valleys

sleep without a care.

Tranquillity serene and lucid.

Everything is silent as though it was blessed.

 

No sign of yesterday's storm.