On the shore of Lake Nicaragua

The light of the new moon
strewn across the surface
of the land-locked sea
the waters gently lapping
the rugged shore

the rise and fall of palm leaves
as the air made its way inland
our voices in the silence
celebrating the passage
from one year to the next

everything still to be made
every notion to be put
to the test
every breath to be measured
and put to good purpose

so much beauty to be held
in the hand and to be admired
so much love to be shared
and time at our beck and call
or so it seemed in those days

John Lyons