Summer on a lake

Summer on a lake

The down of the swan\'s bow dances waxen
on the soft water surface,
indulges in ease,
unable to think of the next tempest.

Emerald dragonflies carve jags into the silky air,
twitching into the small inlets,
whirring on the spot during the next breath.
Their copper-colored abdomen is laced up
like the waistline of a female motorcyclist
wrapped in leather.

The corpses of last and distant years\' leaves
rest on the lake\'s muddy floor,
lost in growing old, blacking on,
bordered by dusky beechnuts.

The water sprinkles upon the cheeks,
plays and washes against its swimmers,
around the rush stalks ascending
over-slenderly from the depth
and the precious butter balls
of the flowering nuphars.

I enjoyed this read.
More prose than poem (only my personal impression here!), maybe. However, it describes familiar things with unusual words and expressions and it conveys a variety of feelings, images, sounds, even smells (the silky air, the dead leaves on the muddy bottom of the lake).
Rgds
Aniara