Pond Refractions and Language Reflections

As long as I am posting my poetry, thought I would try another.

Side Bar:

Language folds itself so well into this medium. I think of poetry somewhat like painting with oils instead of acrylics. Poetry allows the words to move together and blend in ways that otherwise are difficult if not impossible to achieve. While prose is rather more like acrylics, it sets up well but dries too fast to make the rich blends you find in poetry. Perhaps that is why poetry is put to music, while prose is not?

Pond Refractions

The shifting grains of my skin
scatter and break like water bugs
on the water in summer

A pebble abruptly thrust into their
seemingly simple lives

Ripples of undercurrents drag downward

I can see the roll of the pond as it laps
over my belt trying to melt my knees
The crushing weight bending
the five foot some odd inch frame

Cast forward upon this summer pond
reflections of clouds long drifted away
Fragmented dragons and broken knights
Windmills long tilted yet not conquered

Shifted inelegant future constructs

Patience may bring my hide into focus
like sand stripped from its shore
poured to an hourglass making its way
Grain after grain after ripple

A looking glass waiting to form