Standing on the dock at Swan Lake

Standing on the dock at Swan Lake
The journey here I have forgotten
Consumed as I was by thoughts,
Thoughts, too much thinking.
And as I have lived, the lake too has grown,
Aged, dignified, quiet.
On this dock, fresh wood has replaced the rotten
But let us not forget
How well the old had served us.

I live a stone's throw from the lake
The lake I hardly visit
And today when I come it is unrecognizable, beautiful
Morning mists and lush, verdant greens;
Still green flecks make a matrix in the waters,
Noisy ripples advance their centres toward me.
There is life beneath.

Suddenly I have the urge to throw this palm pilot into the lake
To fling it far and high, making an arc
Til it meet its end with a ceremonious splash.