in the curve
of the ox-bow
the tepid currents
a second sky
winds its way
on this earth.
it is false.

my mirror, my mirror
when I approach
your light grows dim
and murky with clouds
of sand.
From a distance I thought -
you were a bright glassy hope
but
you strand little things
fill in houses
before drying up
in the heat of the sun.

Yours is not first light
nor resilience
I am glad
to have walked along the shoreline
and in the full tempestuous surf
I am glad
I am big enough
not to be caught like
your little fish
narcissitic,
desperate to find my own reflection
in you.

in the curve
of the ox-bow
of the currents
i return to the child-self
to wading for the sake
of wading
to feel the coolness of the water's ebb
and not
to waste love, wanting.