WITH THAT, MIRABELLE
There is, for whatever reason, a
new snow on the ground today -
and someone is telling me of it,
as if it wasn't self-evident already.
Curious, how the jumble swarms.
I live in a castle of glass, a pure
place, one where no salt stains
the glass nor discolors the mirrors.
There are (I must only admit),
so many things I see thus - with
a gentle backing, a silver like
that mirror - only by reflection.
Such light wavers and distorts?
-
An old, carbuncular man is looking
down at me, attempting to make
sense of my ways and means. He
does not understand poverty or
paucity, or - for that matter -
particles of any granular reasoning.
By the very same token, I don't
wish to explain, and, with that,
Mirabelle, I leave.
There is, for whatever reason, a
new snow on the ground today -
and someone is telling me of it,
as if it wasn't self-evident already.
Curious, how the jumble swarms.
I live in a castle of glass, a pure
place, one where no salt stains
the glass nor discolors the mirrors.
There are (I must only admit),
so many things I see thus - with
a gentle backing, a silver like
that mirror - only by reflection.
Such light wavers and distorts?
-
An old, carbuncular man is looking
down at me, attempting to make
sense of my ways and means. He
does not understand poverty or
paucity, or - for that matter -
particles of any granular reasoning.
By the very same token, I don't
wish to explain, and, with that,
Mirabelle, I leave.
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