The Lake

I bring her a strand of my auburn hair
and tuck it in a seam of wintery shore.
The Lake swallows
adjusting her grand sleeping body.
Her violet breath flows
beneath bergs of crystalline clouds
whose icy edges rub trickling water
and chime like tiny Buddhist bells.
My wet boots inch closer
across mounds of translucent coins
as I recover her old swirling language.
She is singing my name.