just for a moment i would
like to silence time
and capture a diaphanous layer
of moonlight on the surface of a lake

but the pale morning by afternoon
is tipsy and by twilight
it is slurring its speech
winter cracks
spring ripples
summer splashes
and soon enough autumn will sink

the water's tongue is tied
with shoals
floating catkins
are the shed tears of spring
with its bubbles of uncertainty

time shifts its balance in the wind
and becomes a counter-clockwise
reality where  i am not yet singing
 Songs of the South*