Reflection
janine canan
The sun dives under the clouds
and mountains dim their snowy peaks.
Firs stare into the glassy lake --
where sky smolders on.
A gray mist moves
through the pondering trees.
An airplane hums human history.
And ducks fly toward the rosy north.
Beyond north -- thought cannot go.
There in perfection lies the Sleeping One,
eyebrow arched above her lowered lid,
upon her mouth a blissful smile.
Awake in her dream, I look around --
