On the brink of the lake, where the waters lie still,
reflections of dreams blend with shadows at will.
A canvas of colors, where the sky meets the shore,
each ripple a whisper, nature’s own lore.

The cool breeze carries, sweet scents of the pine,
as the sun doth descend, painting evening’s design.
In this moment of peace, when the world feels right,
I find solace in nature, under fading light.

• Émile Zola