Summers Past
Upon the water the reflections dance,
Repetition of ripples, a tranquil trance,
Rays of sun paint its face,
Another world, called nature’s grace.
Morning’s light, the daily start,
Crafting dreams known as works of art,
Tools tasks a steady flow,
Of dirty shoes and sweaty shirts, a cold wind blows,
Sunrise to sunset, the hours unwind,
Too tired to think of the hours left behind.
Boats glide on mirrored glass,
Sliding through the water are fat bass,
Through sweat and strain, a melody so clear,
Still continue to show up year after year.
