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Beats of the Lake
Nature’s 6 am alarm “rings” a steady wake up call.
Waves beat on the Lake Michigan shore like a drummer in a marching band.
Each crash on the shoreline sounds like rumble of thunder.
I hear the crackle of the campfire, the smell of burning wood.
Birds sing in the trees, nature's sweet harmonies.
I unzip my tent, feeling the breeze.
Cold air gives me goosebumps.
The sun plays hide and seek over our campsite, a childlike state.
It covers the leaves overhead, giving the trees a godlike glow.
Wind leads the trees in a waltz through the leaves.
“Good morning, let’s go for a walk,” my mother says.
Along the shoreline, I stare at the waves.
They roll and crash into the shore, only to wave back.
Sun rises over the water,
sky gold and warm.
Staring out into the distance, it seems that the water never ends.
Water goes on for miles, the waves little travelers.
My hair flies in the wind, it dances on my shoulders.
The smell of the air, fresh and clean.
Feelings overtake me.
Calmness, content, and clarity.
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