Dances on Perfection Brook
By Peter Scott
The flickering of a spark
Rekindled by the pond
I look on
Past the quiet waters muddied
Perceive a rolling shadow
Traveling by this bay
Releasing smoke in tune
We pause&stare
Noticing the air is not alone
Casting form to the formless
Company in reflection
Minor deviation
Yearning to start anew
Our eyes watch the one
On the other side of the horizon
Without touching
Contact is made
In belief
Creations construct themselves
Images form of that not seen
Folds lap over abruptly
Tugging at the portrait
Others have come to wade in the water
Alone no more
A perfect reflection
Spreads too perfect
Drifting only where it may dwell
Jealous I grow
Fermented by a new sight
The young colt
Drinking its liquid
At ease near the fire
So without any start
Nor a depart
I shift my attention elsewhere
Yet still
Gaze afar
Somewhere
Out there
Waiting for the mornš.
