Puddle Poem by Ronnie Smith
Puddle
A shrinking mirror
glinting on the pavement
in the fresh, clean sunlight.
Capturing us,
with more organic pixels
than we can count.
Flown here
by a westerly
but from where?
The darkness of the frozen
Atlantic or the Turquoise warmth
of the Adriatic.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: observation
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5/2/2024 10:17:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
