Oct/Nov 2016 Poetry Special Feature

Now You See It, Now You Don't

by Gary Glauber

Image courtesy of the British Library Online Photo Collection

Now You See It, Now You Don't

Look closely. The wind shows itself,
but I am not a keen observer.
I search the obvious and still remain blind
to what an expert lover knows.

Ganglia splice my edited visions
through a fog that won't dissipate,
and the resultant illusion is
shallow perception of how it really is.

This is the circle I follow
when creek meanders upstream,
fallen sycamore become bridge
to nature's beautiful dream.

Imperfectly I cross, seeking
yet to see, observe minutiae
that might translate to wisdom
if the world whispers astonishments.


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