The Lake at Dusk As the sun dips low and kisses the lake, a silken sheen glimmers, a drowsy wake. The reeds sway gently, in twilight’s glow, whispering tales only the wind may know.

Clouds adorn the sky in hues of gold, each reflection a story, waiting to be told. The ripples murmur with secrets of old, wrapped in silence, the night takes hold.

Here, the world softens, edges blur, time stands still, horizons purr. In the embrace of dusk, I find my place, a quiet union with nature’s grace.

• Thomas S P S Munch