Reflection
By Christabel Germain
Fixing a loose strand of auburn silk,
Together we turn
I,
Fountains of ink,
Ulcers of stress,
And barren white sheets.
She;
The hills roll soft and gentle.
Swaying emerald, chartreuse, jade, lime, and viridian.
Stately trees
Stretch their fingers toward the aqua sky.
A ray of sunlight,
Reflects off the armor
Of an aging dragon;
Watching over the young
As they wrestle in fields of violets.
The clicking of iridescent wings
Small winged creatures dart in and out,
Between droplets of water,
That lazily drip from moss-encrusted rocks.
The silk has again escaped
I return to the mirror,
She bends on her knees,
Peering into the silver circle pool.
Restoring order to the unruly locks,
She returns to scampering barefoot,
By the aging dragon; to dance round the stately trees,
Past the rock and winged creatures.
The wind will reach out his finger,
Urging that wayward strand to rebel
And fall recklessly over our eye.
Forcing me to turn repeatedly,
From my mountains of books,
To the silver circle pool.
To patiently,
Tend the capricious silk.
