Years of historic drought that
left the lake I think of as mine
like a great sandbox with a
river running through it

mean that I’m surprised,
though I’ve been keeping an
eye on it since January,
to see Folsom nearly filled

to the brim, water covering
Granite Bay point till only
some of the mica-flecked rocks’
rounded backs remain dry

in spring sunshine. Today I
am not the only one admiring
the vastness of a full lake.
At the water’s edge stands

a young woman named Jess
and her yellow lab Olly, his gaze
fixed on the B-A-L-L lodged in
its launcher in his person’s hand.

And when she aims it into
the full bowl of royal blue, in he
goes, splashing like a little kid
who’s just discovered a puddle

and bounds out with his prize.
He heads for me, all bright eyes
and wagging tail, droplets popping
off him like rhinestones, dropping

the B-A-L-L at my feet. Who can
ignore such an enthusiastic
invitation? Though my throw
is far from graceful—or far,

for that matter—Olly does not
mind, swimming out to retrieve
and return, again and again, as
Jess and I get acquainted, while

her sweet older dog rests on
the sand, as we humans marvel
at the miracle of All That Water
with more to come—

one of us celebrating
the abundance with another
plunge, a happy shake-shake,
with another round of fetch.

Jess and Olly, Folsom Lake / Photo: Jan Haag

About janishaag

Writer, writing coach, editor
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