Years ago, folks were allowed to camp overnight on Refuge land, on the northeast shore of Elmer Thomas Lake, just south of Mount Scott. One summer evening, my family walked down to the eastern shore as the moon rose slowly in the western sky.

At the Water's Edge

Moonbeams float
down from the darkness;
alighting softly
on the tranquil waters
of a sleepy mountain lake.

Rising full
across the distance,
the broad moon beckons;
casting long, subtle shadows
from the farther wooded shore.

Mesmerized,
I am drawn like fish
to a lovely lure;
the haunting glow of heaven
dangling just inside my soul.

Next poem: The Aged Elder Sings of the Wichita Mountains

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part I: Nature and the Nature of Things