Resting over Flat Branch Creekby Daren Dean
for Cassandra and Claira
We see the heavens reflected darkly in a stream
through the frame of an oxidized bridge,
rust-colored tintype providing contrast for the
overrun forest, vines choking hedge and pine.
You wanted to throw stones in the water.
Unwanted ponyhairs forgotten as the pebble
cast into the olive green water like your eyes.
Your mother kneels holding your waist tight
as if you might transform from girl, to bird,
to fish, to water, to stone, emerge from
the surface, shattering on the creek rock.
Another geode plummets to its fate from your
hand as the light's scattered aura reflects
the god in the afternoon sky with whites,
blues. A hint of days we will spend apart
wandering down the one-lane trails alone
while other three-quarter moons hover
in the daylight sky watching the world curve.