Sitting by the lake, crickets chirping a cheery song. The moon, near full, casts a soft glow amongst the pines and the jeweled black sky above our little clearing sparkles with ancient stars. We've paddled in by moon again, the joyous end to an easy day. And now we've settled to our respective words, he consumes and I produce. I sit and wonder if the other folks, the ones with which we share this lake, have any clue the peace they shake? Natures world is settled now, the creatures move with barely a sound. Some hunt and others gather but none of them yell or roar with laughter. I know it's my preference to get away and this is not the best place to stay. The motors roar right through the night and my tranquil thoughts abate in flight. I've broken down to rhyming trite to make a point that's sadly right. I know I'd feel the other way if I had a cottage at which to stay. A boat to ski would be such joy for one who'll be a teenage boy. I guess I...