Drained Lake

 

Empty of its contents
The muddy floor laid bare
Absent all the bathers
Who once the morn would share
Overhead the wheeling gulls
Crying as bereft
Gone the shining surface
With just a wasteland left
But soon the lake will be renewed
Filled once more to the brim
Its store of tidal waters there
To welcome all who swim.

Drained Marine Lake, March, 21.jpg