Pleasant memories restore our souls. (sweet and moon are the contest words.) |
Pleasant memories restore our souls. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My Inner Bank The sweet sounds of music hum in my soul. For a moment I forget all my Earthly goals, the heavy challenges of a normal day, as I lose myself along melody's way. The moon, a rounded eye, peers down. The light of its beam casts a silver crown, splices boats into numerous sections across the lake water's rippled reflections. A solitary fish jumps out of its bed, dives back down leaving a single thread, a ripple that travels across the lagoon, and shimmers beside the low-lying moon. An old barn owl is perched high in a limb I can barely see him; the light is so dim in the velvet shadows of needled pines, but I hear his hoots, spy his eye-shine. I watch him, urge on his ascent into sky, but like me he rests, is reluctant to fly. His repeated cries form a melody of night. Who am I to protest his refusal of flight? My music has stopped; my break is finished, but contentment is not the least diminished for I have made a deposit to my inner bank, of the splendorous beauty I saw and drank. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |