Have you ever wondered whether what you see in the reflection in a puddle is more real than everything outside of its view? The combination of fall weather, turning leaves, and recent downpours in Northern New Mexico produced perfect conditions for taking in the many “separate realities” playing out along this morning’s hike route. For the most part, these puddles were no more than an inch deep and no bigger than a small area rug. At other times in the year they would just look like muddy brown splotches. But for today, the Fall colors reign supreme.
The puddles have become intriguing windows into quiet places where no ones lives or spends their time. Before long, the moisture will evaporate away and the brilliant colors of Fall will recede. These little worlds will be gone until another year.
Puddles
Puddles, like miniature lakes
reflect the parted sky,
as blue struggles with full grey plumes,
like cracks in old porcelain;
and blue momentarily reinvents the eternal space,
where sun was proud to dance
but yielded to season’s embrace.
And I smile to see this iridescent blue,
halcyon thoughts of warmth endure,
linger like a daydream grin;
when warmer paths of life ensued,
when rain was wished but never due,
and energy just welled from within,
like joyous life itself.
Then as the light crept through the cracks,
and earth lit up from dull repose,
a fleeting warmth did touch my back,
and remind me of what I’m missing;
then as quick as felt, it disappeared
as darker clouds found place above,
the wrath of winter’s curse returned and made it worse.
Oh puddle you’ve turned bland it seems,
my blue is tucked in bed,
and I standing amid its heavy weighted gloom,
no other words need said;
as winter steers its dark grey sails,
to a horizon with no light,
I recede to my inside fire,
to somehow endure night.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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