Meditation on a Moving Lake The leaves in the water Sit almost perfectly still. With each coarse ripple, They tremble and shake, Inching closer to the shore And our gently rustling boat. When we step into the boat, We row out in the water, Pushing further out from the shore, Into the middle of the lake, where the air stands still. Our boat will creak and shake, Sending towards the shore a ripple. And the leaves can feel each ripple That connects them to our boat, Through our movement when we shake And rock in the jet black water. We’ve been here for years, but we still Have not noticed the leaves that drift to shore. When we row back to shore, The rotting ores create a whirlpool and a ripple. With every stroke, we dip into the still Waters that we cut with our boat. This is not our water. We’ve paid this lake a visit on a boat, but we shake. Like leaves when we dip our toes in, we shake Even worse when we step onto the shore After we’ve submerged our entire bodies in the water. We wrap ourselves in towels and step inside, but the lake will still ripple Without us and our boat. This water never lies perfectly still. But we still Forget when we shake In our boat That beyond the shore, Where we move within our lives, there’s a ripple Always moving, expanding out here on the water. Our boat is towed to shore. We try to sit still, but our bodies insist they’d rather shake Like a ripple trembling in the water.