"There's a patch of light..."

...a poem

Photo Cliff Scholz

There’s a patch of light
playing upon the living 
room wall and ceiling 
this morning. 

It moves in softly 
undulating shimmers.

The house faces east
across the lake. The sun 
shines at a low angle,
catching the moving waves.
Seems I’m living 
in a camera right now, 
with the lake as a lens 
and the front windows
being a very wide aperture.

From this image  
floating on the ceiling,
I sense that the sun rose 
in a new place today —
the patch of light I now see
wouldn’t have been there last week — 
and it came up over a far shore 
whose horizon is redefined
daily by the greening trees. 
And of course, the sun also shines on 
new water today, which flows 
like the wind and swans upon it. 
Maybe the occasional    
muskrat or a jumping fish or frog
are adding their own special waves
to the ongoing conversation.

But I’m really just guessing. 
From where I sit all I see now 
is the lensing effect of these reflected waves  
and how they televise events from the unseen 
surface of the water down below. 
I see bright spots and shadows, 
and shadows talking with shadows.

I could go down 
to the shoreline and look, 
and that might be enlightening, too. 
I might see which floating contributor 
is making all the smaller 
ripples I suddenly see crossing
and criss-crossing one another. 

On the other hand,
I could watch what I see here: 
another illuminated creature,
a temporary visitor to enjoy.

I hear the geese outside.
Maybe it’s their disturbance 
of the water I’m now seeing 
in reflection.
Still, I haven’t moved,
or not much, 
or maybe I’m deeply moved   
in my stillness, because
moment by moment, it’s different, 
minute by minute it changes,
and a few minutes later,
it’s gone.