The River Lethe
standing at the edge of River Lethe
gazing with soft focus,
not averting eyes
without fear
a flotilla of glass vessels, oddly anchored and still
the blurred peripheral field funnels into this geometric construction
never coming to focus
that which holds within merges without
bent light reflection in three dimensions,
which a descending nude effected in two
tree-line small-waves river-surface,
bird winging by
softly undulating burnt gray rough woven cloud canopy
a singular light shaft punctures cloud,
like an archer‘s bullseye strike from afar
nine slow breaths
the vessels glow from within
the assemblage and surface struggle to push apart
light-beam disappears
objects and scenery merge once again,
entangled
David Teeple