moored in liquid lapis

shade trees, offering
the touch of coolness
body craves, mind seeks
while soul sings so softly

we can almost hear
the touching of aspen leaves
in the dry brittle heat of july

we can almost hear
the cool blue of harbor bells
calling us to surrender

relinquishing the sweaty hand
of heat's incessant horror
we dive in--unrehearsed

deep in the quenching
of harbour blue
we are restored--become
moored in liquid lapis

~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15