Birds flew above and swam below.
Clouds opening into sunlight became in water a cave opening into darkness.
I watched a swallow dive and skim the surface; its twin rose and almost surfaced, an almost-kiss before the two of them wheeled away from each other, going alike into light and into darkness.
I could have chastised my mind for playing tricks on me, shook my head and forced myself to focus on the old tire languishing on the mudflat shore buzzing with flies.
I could have bid my eyes to look beyond the surface of things into whatever real darkness had mired itself in murky water.
But I built castles in the sky and let them be what they would in a mirrored pond, caverns into kingdoms.
I let mind and eyes dive and rise at once, let them skim the surface of something, an almost-kiss of something more — than what? Oh, more than I can say with words; something more than this.
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