The lake’s contained bulk lapped placidly,
despite the ceaseless need that refused
to settle into unlit sediment.
Its boundary of concrete humanity,
unyielding as it was,
could never immure that desire for motion,
bury it into murky neglect
like so many forsaken bicycle tires.
The body of water was made to move,
to pour itself into the ocean’s greater vastidity,
to nourish barkless saplings
and sapful bark on its way,
to enliven brittle soil in its orchestrated flow,
to return to its original form.
This spirit will always press the lake
to strive and persevere,
its natural yearning great indeed
but dammed by indomitable humanity.