reflected magic

Poem #233 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction

will the lake
beseech the wind

the ripples
to recede



the sky
to present a settled face
of blue

the pine trees
to lean forward
around the water’s edge

the cliffs
on the yonder side
in their best
variegated ochre
to tall themselves
into elegance


to be still
and at best

for the magic
of a reflection
will now
be forged



© Frank Prem 2018

Bachelard and me Poem #234: aspiring to white

5 thoughts on “reflected magic

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