Cropsey, 1859 Hudson River School
Opacity Zero
We are the most transparent we’ll ever be
during the loosely shaped season
when the vibrant colors of yesterday have faded,
leaving us a clean canvas,
anxiously anticipating
what hues the new era might color us with –
the unexplored tones having yet to saturate.
We can’t help but wonder whether we’ll be dressed
in indigo or ivory tomorrow,
or perhaps a sage.
Though they foster no change,
our jittery guessing games
shield us a bit
from the exposed, vulnerable feeling
of absolute transparency.
Metamorphosis
A shift in my conscience
brought by the trade winds you send
distributes miles and miles of sensation
to this temperamental town.
You mock me,
for I am not the one
meant
to bathe in your icy depths.
Fragility
Cross-legged behind the cattails,
we go unnoticed.
Our bottled up energy
threatens to reveal our presence,
so we channel it
into mother nature’s mirror.
Focusing on our swaying reflections,
sending dozens of ripples
toward the midafternoon sun,
distorting our watery appearances.
The pond patterns captivate you
and put you in a trance.
I can tell how much you long
to shatter the delicate silence
with a splash into the glassy pool
of trout, tortoises, tadpoles.
But we both know
that some spectacles are spoiled
after just a brush of human touch.
So there we sat
motionless amongst the tallgrass ;
cross-legged behind the cattails.
