Letter # 23

more of a poem this one seems... but it is nice to change things up! -Amber

Early in the Season


From the edge,
you are a dark pool -
cold and unknown -
somehow, though,
in the wavering fragments
of that golden-framed face
peering down into your depths - -
- -familiar.


In the periphery,
an illusion of first-morning heat,
a blaze of yellow-orange ripples
that radiate from toes
dabbling - -
- -uncertain.

Tangled along the liquid floor lurk
decomposing
but recognizable
dangers:
sharp-edged broken hearts,
timepieces stopped too soon,
a rusted iron bar,
tear-filled packets of warm-water disappointment,
faded, yellowed health records,
that charred silver spoon.

And yet, softly illuminated
through silky channels
meanders a bottom-ribbon of sandy light
just wide enough for fearless wading.

Slow
tentative steps slip
into deeper darkness- -
- - the pauses
pulsing with possibility.

I’m only in knee-deep,
just warming.