The rain falls on the pond of Avion;
The turtles' armor shimmers black like glass;
And softly does the egret trace beyond
The surface, then at once without a splash
It pierces down to plumb the algal cache,
To fish for flies, to skewer and to poke
Around the sparkling mirror on its pass
Where it evaporates in midnight's cloak.
And ever little ripples there respond
In quietest alarm to breaching mass,
Alert to anything that enters on
Its small domain. Beside its ebb the grass
Is pointing from its soily hilts en masse
Amidst the rain, the verdant warmth awoke
A misty cloud that shields the low morass
Which then evaporates in midnight's cloak.
The tree's patina'd leaves the wind absconds
With for a moment, then the next it casts
Them down upon the fissures of the pond;
And on the bank they anchor next the class
Of ducks with plumage darkly flashing brass
Beneath the scattered moonlight where the croaks
Of frogs disperse in every droplet's flash
And then evaporate in midnight's cloak.
A waking dream that plays out past the ash
My cherry grows while on my nighttime smoke;
Our gloaming glows together til the last
When I evaporate in midnight's cloak.
A place for my poems 