A poem.

Quietly lowered into the lake,
Like a bread about to bake,
Slowly and silently without a shake,
Quietly lowered into the lake.

Who did it? Don’t ask me.
Nor the man with the stain or the yellow bee.
For I’ve looked around and all I see,
Is the sky it was lowered from that had let go with glee.

By the time I saw it, it was already there.
It was not announced, there was no blare.
Just a twinkle and a notion to share.
It was in the water, and it just got there.

It’s deep in the night.
It’s twinkling bright.
It’s really such a beautiful sight,
You need to see it, you want to, you might.
For this is just such a beautiful sight.

It’s really not even there when you see it,
But it’s so marvelous, and a clue: it’s always lit.
It’s there, farther than the sun, not just by a bit,
Those things, them stars, they are always lit.

Who put them in the water? They put themselves in.
Not the sky, not by bots, and certainly not by men.
And they waited until there was night and no din,
And then they lowered down and put themselves in.

They are still up in the sky,
And in the water like fireflies,
It’s so quiet you can hear a sigh,
Because they’re in both places. Oh, my!

Reflections they’re called, I’m sure of it.
I’m quite certain, not just a bit.
Below in the water, so smooth you want to spit,
It’s a reflection, I’m sure of it.

This poem is written in response to when I was out late at night in Huntsville State Park (Huntsville, Texas). It was very quiet. Then I saw it. There were stars in the water.