Silver Limnad

The sky is gray today, a patch of blue
reflected on the silver of the lake.
I note a current: nymph, it seems, awake.
I seek her friendship, but what do I do?
My lavender grows green, rosemary too;
a sprig of each I to the lakeside take.
There is no miracle, no mind’s earthquake,
and yet I know today I’ve seen her face.
My offering accepted: walk away,
the tiny lakeside pebbles pricking feet.
I don’t know how to speak to Queens of place.
I saw reflection; the sky is gray today:
I must have done—but have I done?—what’s meet.

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