By His Image Which is Not Reflected in the Pond

Today, says the I Ching, a time of darkness draws to a close
and it hasn't, he thinks, even been so dark. On the phone, she says
we have a knack at bad timing and he hears her and he laughs. It's a joke.
Everyday, he thinks, every day is the practice, and the ants climb his arms to his neck.
Everyday, he thinks, every day is the practice, and he exhales, he inhales,
he gets past. Tomorrow's pond and today's pond are the same,
but tomorrow's pond does not exist. Get it? He sits far enough back from the edge
so that he doesn't upon his face reflect. In love with himself,
disillusioned but still, he counts the birds he can't name.
One, two, three. A friend wants to take him fishing, a friend says,
today, he thinks that that sounds pretty great.

Just-Past-Noon Pond in a High-Speed Workday

Fire-red dragonfly. Monarch in flight. Ducks in bright green algae, dipping.
Breeze made visible in a pond-reflected treelight. Unseen bugs make rings perfectly
on the surface. There's a lot going on, including joggers and children. And a pre-panic mother
attempting an afternoon rush. He sits counting the minutes he breathes
and tries not to try to relax but to just
relax. And so he does. And across the pond, a stranger is humming
almost in time with his mind. Projection is like this.
The world inside and the world coincide. A stream of ants rushes out,
rushes back. The mother duck lifts her shining wings
but doesn't fly. She dives in, pops out. Dives in and pops out again.
Beautiful. She preens herself alive.

Near-Sunset Pond on a Better-than-Average Day

With more than half of a moon in the sky-blue sky
and a mother and nine baby ducks asleep nearby and a squirrel with clasped hands
beneath a swooping pair of sparrow
and trees and trees and near-sunset breeze and two socked feet
at the end of two outstretched legs and this hand
and this blue pen and this other hand scratching my sunburnt chest
by this pond reflecting more than half a moon
as the train trains by and two dogs on the move with their two people leashed
and the birds fly a loop and I'm waiting for nothing
and so nothing comes through as I think of my friend who'll be leaving town soon,
I mean I think well of my friend who'll be leaving town soon.