Pale Maid And Laughing Leaves Poem by Gordon R Menzies

The evening wind brings nothing
across the lake tonight, it rocks
the sleepy fishes in their dreams
passes through the three cairns
to where I sit in smoke and whiskey
on Poet's Rock, watching swallows
race conspiring, grey-bellied clouds
I watch the Angel's portion
rise to heaven from silver quaich
while before me in the cool lake
the pale maid swims with turtles
and the red maple leaves, dancing
youthful, discuss us and laugh
their lives are short and sunny
and the immortal evening wind
knows as well as I their opinion
means little in its passing
the pale maid dives deep then
looking for secrets, laid down
below the sleepy silver lake, finds
the bones of last year's leaves
among the beds of grey fishes
wide-eyed and knowing, fleet
as a summer unconsidered