M.C. Escher, Puddle, 1952
Woodcut in Black, Green, and Brown
Printed from Three Blocks
Water, Earth, Sky
Let's be realistic and just admit
we see at least three things
differently. You fear traveling
the road unpaved, sullied soles
treading opposite my own set
direction. I pray to a round-faced
moon sky-jumping Corsican pines
turned upside down in the arc
of the last fevered night carved
out before morning's sharper light.
You liken a puddle a thing easy
to ford; I say be careful, the shallow
can be so deceiving. You mirror
what tracks to every imprinted clue.
I risk what's unseen from the edge,
open up only after the fall begins.
© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
This poem is my response to today's photo prompt at Magpie Tales. Anyone may participate. Go here to drop your link and to read other contributors' poems.