Dear Eric, I spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell. Gulls plunged simple cries at me, dissolving mist, and kids from town tracked love along my banks, leaving a spoor of underwear. In the back reaches of my shadowy woods, showy orchis and spiderwort made a play of bold perishing color. When you floated naked, my waves were tongues washing you back to beginnings. Wind from my hills blew music from your lips. One spring they drained me to the bottom and spilled poison on the fish's privacy. Refilled, I wait for the next change or violation, brooding on my lost fish and the shame of my bare mud. Come again as you did before, whenever you wish, moonlight or blinding sun. Griffy Lake