With age mirage assuages what the youthful eye would have studied until identified— chicory? bluebird? debris? Today no nomenclature ruptures the composure of a chalk-blue haze pausing, even dawdling, now and then trembling over what I'm going to call fresh water.
Copyright © 2010 by Erica Funkhouser. Used with permission of the author.
Raised in Concord, Massachusetts, Erica Funkhouser studied at Vassar College and Stanford University
Date Published: 2010-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/vision