Night vision

I wake in beads of clammy,
fear-refracted consciousness:
beyond the window lies
a silver lake with inundated trees,
a forest filmed in mercury's
metallic dew from backlit skies,
a creeping tide from melting ice
lapping at its base.

As my vision clears, I see
the gleaming trees are still in place,
not drowning in a saline tide,
but half awash in moonlight.


Рецензии
На это произведение написаны 4 рецензии, здесь отображается последняя, остальные - в полном списке.