I watch the light ripples
illuminate that dark place:
reflections of wind on water
that shows impossible shadows,
its greasy surface polluted
by people's past playtimes.
It is quiet here.
I follow the dance of swallows
as they flit and glide and skim,
a lone duck choosing its landing spot,
trees which make me sad and happy,
rushes that do anything but.
The line between light and shadow
looks crisp on solid ground
though I fancy that the closer one gets
the more grey becomes apparent.
This reservoir's constant motion
gives no such clarity:
it tells us why it is so hard,
so infinitely wonderful, to be human.
illuminate that dark place:
reflections of wind on water
that shows impossible shadows,
its greasy surface polluted
by people's past playtimes.
It is quiet here.
I follow the dance of swallows
as they flit and glide and skim,
a lone duck choosing its landing spot,
trees which make me sad and happy,
rushes that do anything but.
The line between light and shadow
looks crisp on solid ground
though I fancy that the closer one gets
the more grey becomes apparent.
This reservoir's constant motion
gives no such clarity:
it tells us why it is so hard,
so infinitely wonderful, to be human.