The small leaves began to rustle at the top of their high perch.
The quaking of the small green leaves slowly grows to a roar.
A small sail of needle tufts gently sways the tall mast of pine.
And then down very low, hugging the earth, a breeze begins to blow.
The welcome movement interrupts the smothering stillness of heat.
My sweat disappears unnoticed, like the assistant in a magic show.
The quiet stillness of the lake reflects the clear blue sky overhead.
The solitude of the water-bottomed bowl is broken by a lonely loon's cry
The buzz of the single motor boat annoys like a distant mosquito.
The wake creates washboard ripples across the surface of the lake.
The bobbing maroon sails of the boat counterpoint the ripples.
A flashing paddle documents the presence of a canoe in the shadows.
The green horizon is unevenly defined by the far tree tops.
My attention is attracted to the flashing of a pair of strobe lights.
The thin metal needle of a distant tower points to the sky.
It disturbs me, this tiny intrusion, this interruption of nature.
Unlike the roar of a chainsaw in the distance, it bothers me.
The acrid smell of smoke from burnt out fires seems to belong.
Despite these minor annoyances, it is a peaceful place.
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