Deep Creek Lake: the lost language of leaves

Listen: how quiet’s Deep Creek!

The leaves do only dare to speak!

I swear that even Death’s asleep!

 

The stars felt in the lake: a heap

of lights on Deep Creek icy cheek.

The fear travelled at a creep.

 

From memory I could not sweep

this moment that I’d like to keep,

when all the leaves do dare to speak.

 

 

Not many desires, but one:

open my eyes and see you come

and shoot you with a quaker gun.

 

My soul is ready then to leaven.

I’d swear that I arrived in heaven

on Lake Shore Drive, 2007.

 

 

The dead body of fear pecked by a raven.