The sun glitters
Off the lake water
Until it burns
Your irises
And you squint
Across the liquid surface
To the forest across.
You hold on
To the edge of the dock
Feeling course wood
Grate against your palm
The cool mist
That lingers on your dusty feet
and turning it into mud
Is a sharp contrast
Against the blazing sun
On your back.
“Until it burns” definitely makes the poem. What a twist! Great description throughout. Very detailed.