A Lake Gaurded By Bears

The early afternoon sun has just won out over the morning mist and chill. The green is still clinging to the trees, but the crispy orange and dirty yellow are falling think over the shadowed grass and forming dirty/mirky little island over the all too still lake. They make little boats that trade around the larger clumps that have roots down in the water. Miniture versions of the square wooden row boat that is pulled in up under a hanging branch. Floating, fixed, sits still like a secret.