Water-Shadow Poem by Judith Vriesema

Foxgloves tangle their leaves around bicycle tires,
and shadows draw rivers through windows open to spring.
Cars tear through blue skies,
and stones compose abstract light of driftless air.
Trains keep in rhythm to the sun as passengers converse with newspapers and tea-laden smiles;
the rhythm of laughter keeping pace with the speed of the train.
The shadows of bicycles remind cezanne of van gogh.
The thames runs fast trying to catch the sun in reflected train windows;
a race with the physics of time.
Larkspur and field grasses tease the edges of a bird's wing;
ribbons of lilac that are wound around tall sculptures of hay.
In the wind,
every cloud becomes juxtapositioned with glass
and glass with minute sheets of water;
puddles being expelled by the shadows of bicycle tires winding through sound.
On a spring morning,
lilac clouds exemplify the ripples of rain soaked reflections as my shadow plays with the spokes of a wheel dabbled in sunlight;
the hum of bees in mozart's genius.