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Rabbits in a variety
of sizes cross the trails
after the rain.

Mist and broken
glass everywhere
to remind us

it’s Sunday morning.

Three young women
running so in sync
they appear as two

till they reach a bend
in the path—an echo
of the lake’s amoeba shape.

The long northern arm
really more a hockey stick
mid-swing. The woman

in the middle
finally revealed
as a hidden island

covered in virgin woods
comes into view. Was I
ever that girl? The one

who came to us
in a fever dream
covered in illegible graffiti.

Freshwater waves lapping
the shore behind the stone
wall. Windows

on an old utility shed
covered in red paint. The one
drawn to the translucence.