A Small Lake

A small lake There was a lake not far from the white-washed hamlet in the interior of the Algarve; on hot summer days, witnessed by my dog, which shuddered at the thought. It was a small lake surrounded by hillsides, modest almost unobstructed, just water, no big deal One day when driving past the lake had disappeared a dent in the ground full of thistles and tine of tunny Oh, come think of it, a rowing boat that once had been optimistically blue, but now sad dried teardrops. The plane between the hill where the lake lived is a center for helicopter services; not that much I mind but I would rather see the lake again in the moonlight.