Tarn
A mountain tarn,
a mirror blackly gleaming.
I slide down some shale
to peer in. As I stare
there's a tingling apprehension
of being too close to an edge
where sky, land, and reason
drop away.
I can't quite say what I expected to see,
not the bottom of a mountain,
a man's visage maybe,
perhaps some deep mystery?
What I saw buried its reflection
into the back of my mind
where it is still surfacing.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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