a million worlds balanced atop globules
of settled wake and rain, dancing on strung-up
green leathered water lilies in rolling waves.
These beaded reflections, moving,
were a million of you and a million of me;
crystals bouncing with electric light, cosmos lithe,
changing, above tadpole, water beetle, and autumn’s fallen leaves.
No question these microcosms stand in wait,
bobbing on a clear lake,
on each movement thrown within,
contemplating nothing—save for seen,
by those who pass in man-powered vessels,
just a moment in time, taking what they can.
Seagulls carried shadows
above their lives on a lake.
Here, undulating up and down,
and many worlds away.