by Thomas Davis


He talked about the mirror of the lake,
reflected trees and cloud and sky, the still
so absolute, the waters dark, opaque,
no wind, no breath, no birds, no human will
to mar the moment made for memory
entangled in the webs of days and hours
that jumble, jangle, pounce, drone, laugh, and flee
across and through the fields of flowers
surrounding us and all the love we miss
but know inside our livers, gall stones, hearts
as hours blend into hours and all our bliss
becomes a mirror that is but a part
of floating on a lake of trees and sky.

As rain begins to fall, a loon begins to cry.


Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis

7 responses to “2

  1. Ina

    This is a very deep poem and there is much more to it than at first read 🙂 x

  2. “…no human will mar the moment made for memory”. Your verse elicited feelings of hope and well-being. Thank you.

  3. A poem made for memory too.And, I hope, for some joyful times as well as reflective ones and those almost to deep to bear. Thinking of you.

  4. Anna Mark

    It seems a very good end to the stillness of that mirror: rain and the loon’s cry. Throughout the whole stillness of the poem, I knew the rain and the loon were there…I love the way this poem seems to move within the mirror, memory. Gorgeous and sorrowful.

  5. Thomas, I always love to read your poems, to hear the rhythm of your words, your imagery – this one with a melancholy captured with grace, sorrow, and soul. Very beautiful! (It’s good to see you posting again – I’ve missed you. Hope you are doing well.)

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