Turning Water

You noticed the other day,
How the lake water had turned,
Signaling the oncoming cold,
And how nice it would be to be at the bottom
Where it would be warm,

The sandhill crane hopped gracefully
Off of the waterlogged trunk of the tree
Where turtles sunned themselves,
Dipped the water with one wing,
And alighted on the other shore,
Eying the shoreline for a last meal
Before heading south,

I, too, have noticed the change in things,
And often stop now to rest,
And, like the crane, cool my wings,
Waiting to take flight,
Or, like the turtle, I slip off of the log,
And float gently to the bottom of the lake,
Where it would be warm.