Today the lake is as clear as I’ve 
ever seen it.
No wind. Full sun. 
The level is still high,
but at the gazebo 
I can see the bottom easily.

I spend a long time looking down
before I begin to see what is
coming back up.
Rising from the other direction—
from the brown depth below—
is the growing grass.
Strands of it, green, like
a mini underwater forest.

I experience some kind of 
turning insideoutness
at this thought.
Something of the lake looking back.

And as I do that,
I see a subtle movement 
in the ground cover
of the underwater garden below—
a turtle slowly going,
burying itself into some hole
for a while,
before moving on
at a depth usually unseeable.
And then I spot another one,
and, together, they go off
underneath the gazebo
into the darkness.

I leave the gazebo and head back,
and at the first real bend in the bank,
there I spot another one in the shallows.
Three turtles in the lake’s eye,
looking back.