One would think a lake, man made
as she is, stocked with carp to keep out the dark,
to be dead, but that's a sea bordering Jordan.
This one is live, reflective even, and at a certain
hour of morning, she's covered in diamonds,
a Sparkle Plenty of Dick Tracy days. Remember
Tracy? Tess Trueheart? Popular Comics?
Well, Sparkle Plenty, it is, winter, summer, or fall,
a particular bright spring in her a.m. step.
How comes the scintillation here, I ask?
and she says, It's all those stars, Dear. They
have no place to go at sunrise. They sparkle
plenty here, where the white birds come