Beneath the Perseids she sleeps.
Breath and heart, sinew and bone
Under the sparking sky.
Morning breaks the lake
Into diamonds , too soon.
Too soon to do the day's reckoning,
The accounting of parts and pieces.
Each deficit, each trial
Of wash rag and hairbrush
Ticking the sure yet hazy distance
Coming from a long way off,
A steady separating
From a morning's contentment
By the dazzling, placid lake.
© 2015 Tracey Physioc Brockett