Black Creek
I.
the dead float
in the wake
of a newly steered craft
I stare in wonder
at the radiance ahead
carried toward
clear water
I see
no ghosts in shadows
no floating corpses
only the deep green
of spring
floating lily pads
and a new face
beside my own.
II
We float
caught in the flow
wings flash white
past rain-washed wood.
Reality slips sideways
and drifts
like a feather.
An Ent winks
by black water
his laugh heard
by the wind.
We sail
our silent passage
reflected in
a snake's eyes
and the streak of a wing.