Dew on a blue-green pond is the planet redrawing its borders as reflections. From a sheltering tree,
a blackbird speaks while the other species listen. This conversation exempts us. "It's definitely not
a crow," man wielding telephoto a lens declares. Majesties of science study Homo sapiens as an
alien species, although alienation is absent from their predictions. Gliding across the pond a duck
flaps its wings, but doesn't fly.

A faint path
disappears
beneath a wall
of foliage.
I sideshadow
through, emerging
onto a mesa with an in-

depth view of the
valley's horizon
as if seen
through
the prism
of a myth,
verdant as an algae covered pond.