Trees That Weep, Amidst The Lakes. Poem by Michael Gale

Along river's edge, the trees do weep...
After rains, bugs do creep.

Watery signs of liquid seep...
Ever so, ever deep.

Wakes ripple ever far...
Reflected takes, never mar.

Pools of beauty, do we take...
Another look, that we stake.

Sighted beauty upon thy lake...
Once was spied, not by mistake.

Ever clear, ever trance...
Ever caught, by mischance.

Waves gone, waved, as cast...
Lastly looked, left, not past.