Lakeside Musings

Have you ever listened to water? That’s right–listened.

“Water makes no noteworthy sounds to be heard,” you say. But oh, how you are wrong!

Stand beside a lapping lake, with your feet planted firmly in the rough, gravelly sand. Watch the little glittering rollers come nearer to your toes. They are a delight to look at, are they not? And yet, so much more than that, when one takes the time to listen.

“Merry” is a word often used by poets, and others who are linguistically gifted, to describe that gentle sound. Gentle, for it is small, this lake of mine.

It rolls, and laps, and makes velvety, muted splashing sounds. It drifts, tumbles, and whirls, stirring it’s leafy contents in the heavy breeze. All of that, all at once, in a moments glance. And all with it’s own sound–nature’s carefully constructed, discordant harmony.

One thinks, as one resumes one’s pace around the silty shore, that it does, in fact, sound merry. Perhaps the great poets and lyricists were right, after all.

And they, who have long since gone to their eternal rest, laugh merrily themselves, to hear that you agree.

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