Lacrosse Basin



I find myself standing at the head if a great basin. I look down upon it like the pages of an open book. Rivulets glisten in the sunlight and grass waves gently in the breeze. Stillness and tranquility surrounds me; I hear only the sound of my own footsteps and the occasional call of a bird.

As I descend, I am carried by the scent of the flowers that encompass me and the meadow heather baking in the early morning sun. The rhythmic Cascade of the Holy Cross comes into hearing. I explore the basin and all that it offers. I rest myself on the lake shore and watch clouds drift by.

I ponder what surrounds me and almost feel guilty for disturbing such a beautiful place with my uncleanliness; like one who opens the wrong door and disturbs a sacred rite. I rise, take one last look, and turn to leave.

I do not wish to tarry too long and become accustomed to all this beauty.

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