There's a big one in my backyard. It never fails to surprise me.


Pondering a Pond

Not the pond, but the reflections on the pond,
same but not same, trouble my peace today.
Not the cypresses that fringe the water,
but their watery imposters lying prone, posturing.

Odd that the mirrored image is the source of my delight,
yet the trees and grasses and wildflowers on the banks
are living things--things I can touch without dispersing,
while with a sweep of my hand, their dancing doubles die.

I wonder, as wonderers often do, if my peculiar pleasure
lies not in the one but in the two: the pond and its sister:
Inseparable and complete--merging in my fancy fancies.




Poetry by William Hughes The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2025-07-16 at 02:50

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Welcome to PoetBay.... your poem basically explores the difference between physical solidity and illusory reflections - that, as you say, can be destroyed with the sweep of a hand. An interesting concept of thought. Maybe you were reflecting too on the myriad instances that exist within our material existence? Blessings, Allen
2025-07-16