MYRA MEYER
Mirror Lake Still. Serene. A glassy reflection: Peaks of tranquil green trees and the frosted tips of mountains embraced by wisps of white clouds.
The mirror’s image is like static. Winds warp the waters, muddied and impure. Storm clouds billow and rumble-Electric daggers strike the earth.
Anxious minnows dart through shallow shadows. A fallen warrior provides sanctuary, its winding branches stretched over copper rocks.
Nature rages until no more tears are left to cry, and hiccups fade in the distance.
A single water droplet shudders on a forlorn leaf while despairing clouds roll blue skies into darkness.
Dark gray rolls to blue.
The single droplet multiplies a thousand times. Crystal glass shatters with shards of a million celestial tears.
Winds die down to soft whispers.
Muddied waters settle. Reflections are restored, but more pensive than before. Solemn. Still.
POETRY 11
