I hear the leaves hit the ground
But not the water.
Why don’t they sink right away?
There are reflections of shrubbery
Yellow and orange shimmering
In the shallow creek.
The shade paints blue
But the sun muddy green.
Wet black rocks sprinkled
Among gentle tides of floating matter.
How much water does a leaf displace?
Catbird crying overhead.
Another hidden place.
Photo and poem by Diane Wheeler Dunn