"Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past."
JAMES JOYCE, Ulysses
Bottleneck
Spring thaw,
and melt has collected
in a small depression
in a sheltered glade.
A perfect mirror
reflecting clear, and still.
But water never stops.
Molecules in motion,
popping-off
into warm dry air.
A breeze
ruffling the surface.
And the puddle
emptying
through saturated earth.
To glistening mud,
then dull brown summer.
Because water seeks its level,
inexorable
as the force of gravity.
And up
to the stratosphere,
powered by sun.
I look at my reflection
in the standing pool,
after run-off has settled
before leaves unfurl.
A brief glimpse.
As if the present
was a minor bottleneck
in the flow of time
from future to past.
Just as ice turns to rain
and clouds
to weather.
Overcast
and the mirror turns black.
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