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Clearlake, California. A Well Remembered Day by Christine Bassett

I wake to see the stars
gently fading in the dawn.
The pale moon has lost its shine.
I feel the soft, cool grass beneath my back
but I stir against the hard, cold earth.
Here there is no chorus to greet the morn,
but the sun rises swiftly, bringing warmth.

I stand, and then walk towards the lake,
bathe in the chill waters of the night
and so the day begins.
Ghostly echoes of Gregorian Chant
call me to the old chapel ruins.
I step inside and touch Virginia Creeper
which clings to the cloisters.

It is peaceful, as I wander through the ruins,
thinking of those who once lived and prayed here,
but the heat becomes oppressive,
so I return to the lakeside.
I wade into the cool, clear waters
and sit upon a rock beneath the trees
to rest and contemplate.

At this moment I am unaware
that this beautiful, peaceful place
will become a great tourist attraction,
the lake will be raped by water skiers,
the trees cut down to make way
for hotels and condominiums
and I shall never return.

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