A Smoke

A cigarette Dawn and the mist, what else expect On Lake Martin early spring? Swamp cypress dripping with Spanish moss. I have stopped rowing, water swirling around Oar blades. The silence is absolute; I dare not inhale A bird shrieks, the lake shudders An evil thought has entered Paradise. I hear the faint noise of outboard motors The moment of ethereal stillness was gone, I lit a cigarette smoke inhale, blow Rings of delight in the morning air.