Puddles

Haphazard ellipses congregate
Hubris capturing and rendering the world
Analogue ripples bending
The sky the birds my face
Retreating clouds give less
The pools recede already
And where do the puddles go when the water is gone?
Do they cease to exist?
Or are they lying dormant?
Contours of a landscape
Waiting selfies for the next storm

-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Sobbing of the
Bells [Midnight, Sept. 19-20, 1881]”)