A sliver of sky
echoes in a lake.
I cannot find myself there
but I see several worlds.
Yes, I view what others, by choice,
make evident: mansions, launches, parties.
Birds, floating over the water could, with ease,
see their under-bellies when they look down
as they dive low across the water, yet
they do not, pursued by their images ...
instead, and motivated, they look only for fish.
Though clear as sky, it is their hunting-ground.
One day, the people will leave.
The birds will fish for compliments
rightfully theirs.
Honorable mention
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