Mosquitos skim the pond’s face disrupting mirrored canopy like gentle falling rain, fingertips on glassy screen. Rocks with gray complexion, sweating onto lily pad cheeks. Algae eczema blooms despite the heat. To a pond, the slightest breeze is a seismic earthquake. The bubbles made may burst within seconds. A turtle turns several times, but still lacks direction. The bullfrog's serious words, lack candid inflection. To make a change, there’s no need to kill a tree. Simply skirt a pond-side reed or come closer, peer in, and see how shallow this whole poem has been clouded by my own reflection.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Cover Art: I took this photo at a pond I stumbled on during my morning walk.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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