A sense of white in motion
dives from the sky into the pond,
disturbing the isolation of the woods,
sending droplets in the air, fluttering,
until they fall in an arch,
reverberating in secondary drops
and turn into the waves
that touch the water’s edge.

The water bird pops up again,
its beak still empty from the fish that got away.
It floats there, confused, between the water lilies,
until it flies to another place on another day,
reflecting in the water as a firefly
that leaves its light with the setting sun.