Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Reflection of the Rower
The Reflection of the Rower
The glass of the window appeared black,
Its clean surface mirroring
What it looked out on,
The small round table
On which stood a clear glass vase
Holding one red dianthus,
Next which stood a salt cellar
Paired with a pepper grinder.
Behind these sat a thick
White mug of hot black coffee.
Behind this I sat,
Before me rising a serpentine
Cloud of steam off the coffee’s surface.
In all this, only the steam moved,
Until, suddenly,
Behind me,
I saw reflected in the window,
A rower pass, silently, along the river,
Disappearing from view
As he passed behind my head,
Then reappearing,
As though a thought from my mind
Had become embodied as I watched.
Philip Kuepper,
(September 2011)
The glass of the window appeared black,
Its clean surface mirroring
What it looked out on,
The small round table
On which stood a clear glass vase
Holding one red dianthus,
Next which stood a salt cellar
Paired with a pepper grinder.
Behind these sat a thick
White mug of hot black coffee.
Behind this I sat,
Before me rising a serpentine
Cloud of steam off the coffee’s surface.
In all this, only the steam moved,
Until, suddenly,
Behind me,
I saw reflected in the window,
A rower pass, silently, along the river,
Disappearing from view
As he passed behind my head,
Then reappearing,
As though a thought from my mind
Had become embodied as I watched.
Philip Kuepper,
(September 2011)
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