Two versions of some lines I wrote on the camping trip last weekend on a beautiful little lake.

The Lake Water lapping at the dock; idle boats bobbing and squeaking waiting for pleasure-seekers. A lone kayaker skims along the water, her smooth stroking barely disturbing the lake. A small breeze ripples the water's surface and ruffles the bank-hugging trees. Only patches of blue above us now; the fluffy clouds are congregating into large masses. The voices of happy young swimmers Sing a counterpoint to the lake's song. The occasional jet skier provides the percussion. Smooth strokes Lithe body Tiny ripples on a glassy surface. Freshening breeze Happy voices Congregating clouds in a large mass. Water laps Boats bob Leaves rustle to the lake's song.

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