In the early morning
And even later, still,
The lake’s surface is
Full, an inverted
Seamless sky.

It is easy to rest here,
To feel no pull to move
Or to act. Instead,
I watch purple martins
Swoop, dip, nearly collide.

Nearby, in a half-completed
Project, you stop and look to me,
Lifting your hand
In reverence to this new pull
Neither of us understands.

Weeks later, I will remember
This day as a prayer,
A single offering:
Windless sky on water,
Winged salutations, your eyes.