The flowing mirror

Time seems to hover, hold its breath above the glass-flat river - then a late, low swallow, dipping near the water, pocks its surface sheen. Before the river's trowelled smooth, a slight wind finger signs its name, and then a leaf spins out, is borne again, by water, not by limb. Late racing light crowds in along the glossy stream with such quick feet for all its blaze it leaves no dent, no ripple snags its dazzling spring - the windless, soundless sun, like thought, blooms in the eye, shaped candle light.

Share this story:

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK