— Manzanita Lake, Lassen Volcanic National Park, July, 2020

 

Bats dip and flit, chubby black butterflies 

take dark and deadly aim at unseen prey 

above the glassy surface of the lake, 

tattered skin-wings soundless in their flight.

 

Through early-evening gloam the mere reflects 

eastern cerulean-sienna sky,

amaranth embers in the fiery west, 

a smoke-scent threat to the dusty

burnt umber of wary, watching woods, 

carmine coral shadows in its shallows;

 

swiftly scribing angled lines, capricious 

curves, cursive unknown languages of need 

that nearly intersect but never do—

instinctive calculus of sonar sense 

and deft abruptions avert collisions—

 

membraned fingers’ enwebbed mercurial 

claws extending skin-scoop deathtraps, 

quick cup-to-mouth dippers for quenching thirst, 

touch-points with the mirror of the water.

 

Images cast in smoke-red twilight tarn 

flick brighter than the silhouettes that fly 

in tandem with their water-selves below, 

separate as they rise, then reunite 

in single shapes the instant their swooping 

tail-tips touch the clear black water’s face, 

so solid-seeming when so still, yet soft; 

countenance perturbed, not penetrated 

as twin semicircles, kiss-print ripples, 

flash and flow in a single beat of wing.