Dawn finds you, invisible lake,
though fog of last night’s storm
would deny your existence.
Like floating tufts of fur from
an old grey cat, slowly morning
thins your coat: a strand here,
a strand there, until small right
triangles emerge, hundreds of tiny
white flags waving in a line,
their thoughts bent entirely toward
that island,
and the hundreds of miles of water
and wind,
and the will needed to tame you.