I pick up our car from the service place
and at the last minute 
decide to take
my afternoon walk at the lake.
This I rarely ever do.
The only time I’m usually here 
is the morning.
And today—this afternoon—
it seems a different lake.

Earlier in the day I’d sat on a train
and looked down on it
as I glided by—a faint sliver
of water seen for a moment
then gone.
The whole green tree mass of it
shaped like some 
bowl, the whole scene seen
in more of single wholeness,
cupped in green.

Now I walk the water’s edge, again,
as per usual, though the light is all wrong—
it comes at me from the western edge
so the morning shady spot is now in full Sun.
The wind whips in from the southwest—
not totally unusual in winter, 
but it now seems somehow more forceful,
more violent; birak afternoon
wind of oceanic light
and air.

I stand on the jetty, unusually in shade,
and enjoy there a moment 
the darkness of it,
the wind behind
calmed slightly by the trees.

On the western edge trees bring shade
in places, but not much cover
from the wind.
Shadows stretch from their base out across the water.

At the gazebo there are people taking photos or video
while they throw limestone rocks in the water.
‘Turtle hunting?’ I venture.
‘No, we’re making a movie
and we need an image of a bubbling spring.
‘You know there are turtles down there too?’
Silence.
Then another big plop.
‘That looks like it might be the shot,’
the shooter says to the thrower.

I walk on around the rest of the lake,
the Sun and wind mostly behind me.

And then I get to the parkland
where in the warmer months
I chart a course from shady tree
to shady tree.
Now, much if not most of the place
is in shadow.
I wander across,
only a few spots where 
light still creeps in.