absconded picnic table
twenty feet from the sainted Lake
under a 100 year old maple –
same as the cottage but then, it was a post office.
Beautiful, shady, thick,
home to thirty birds,
on a slow day.
Big freighters pushing through,
disturbing still waters.
floating monsters clip by,
birds circle the bank
something may unearth
wakes revealing
tasty morsels
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