In summer by Sicamous Lake, the white sand soft beneath our feet,
the sun dazzling, hanging like a clock in mid-sky.
The lake bursts with the light of a million stars,
its rippling silver sheen like a vast Milky Way.
Few people here, summer leaves space just for us.
My son and I wade into the shallows,
playing a lighthearted game of tossing the ball by the shore,
as circles of shimmering light unfold around us.
Again and again you throw the ball across the glittering waves,
again and again I toss it back across the shining ripples.
We stand in the middle of the water, giving our thoughts to the lake.
Suddenly, I feel that I am already in heaven.
In the brilliance, my eyes fill with tears.
My heaven must be this very bay,
when the lake is covered with boundless light,
when thinking rests, and the heart opens like water lilies, like ripples.
If I grow old, remember—I am within these waves of light,
where you throw the ball into the air,
and I throw you the radiance of time—
your laughter carries on forever, clear and bright.
On the way home, fine sand still lingers in my shoes.
Though I cannot take away the galaxy of glittering waves,
heaven once rested by the lakeshore that afternoon—
the lake radiant, the waters shimmering, and we dwelled with the light.
By XinYu 2025-09-01