Mirror
This inordinately calm, sunny Monday morning,
Just past May's pivot point of days,
As I gaze out, through the kitchen window,
The six-thirty lake
Appears to be a mercury-backed mirror
Perfectly reflecting everything in its purview.
It's impossible to tell which sky is sky,
Which clouds are clouds,
Which trees are trees,
Which water is water,
Which shore-hugging cabins and houses
Are cabins and houses hugging the shore.
An invisible whiff of breeze or breath
Barely shimmers the glassy stillness,
Sets half the sky, half the clouds, half the trees,
Half the water, half the cabins and houses adrift,
But illusion and reality
Yet refuse to let me see which is which.
05/17/10 - (1)
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