(Raanana, March 31, 2019)
I feel a bitter pleasure in remembering that day
In the forest outside our small village.
I was walking down a leafy path
Toward the little lake where I would sit
By the water with my back against a smooth rock
To make some modest sketches
And write what came to me.
Down the shore a ways
The woman sat as was her wont
Without a stitch of clothing on her
Back against the generous trunk of a maple tree.
Her long thick hair the color of wheat
Gushed over her golden shoulders,
One eye was the color of dawn
And the other was sunset.
To tell the truth,
She was the reason I came down to the lake
Though I never had the courage
To speak to her. What could I say?
The blue sky deepened to cobalt
As the sun sank below the hills beyond the lake
And Venus was already where she was supposed to be.
I couldn't tell whether the sunset streamed
Into her eyes or flowed out of them.
From the corner of my eye
I noticed she was standing now,
Pulling a skirt up her long legs
Slipping her arms through a blouse
And putting her small feet into shoes.
Next thing I knew she was gone.
It's been many years since last I saw her,
I hardly go down to the lake anymore.
I can't rightly explain it but
The lake is just a lake,
The sunset's just a sunset,
And my pages lay blank
In one of the drawers.