Scum
Scummy waters slow lap
an ill-defined edge.
Broken Spider-tangles
drift like torn wedding veils.
The surface of the pond
is thick with rot
bracken, slime soaked weeds,
the yellowing seep of decay
smears the turgid water.
Yet now a ray of sun
stabs through the detritus.
I watch as a circle blooms
within the crud
light dancing beneath.
Clear water smiles upward!
The heart of the pond
is still beating bright.
I holler 'Amen' to the sky
and don't ask why.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2023
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