interim

while i can think of many things,
flies trapped in a buzzing jar of stickiness,
there is nothing before me right now
but the placidity of this lake
with its two snow-capped volcanoes.
the calm of the lake,
the sun saying its reluctant goodbye,
unwrinkles the skin above my forehead.
how pleasant it is
to be able to pause,
if only for a moment,
and not get trampled on, from behind.

puerto varas