THREE WORLDS


 
The Autumn pond contains three worlds:
in its meniscus, mirroring bare boughs
above my head, netting moon and stars.
 
Simultaneously one with the leaves,
bright yellow, floating on the surface
barely stirred by half-hearted breeze.
 
The tension breaks: a mottled koi rises
sunrise to deliver two quick devouring kisses
to that implacable air-water interface.

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