Popple

Ripples carry songs
outward to beyond –
culminating at the edges
in a crescendo
that is too abrupt;
nothing is diminished,
no tune is lost
inside its bracketed echoes,
chiming molecules
and gentle undulations

of steel rings that pirouette
in derelict space, abandoned
save for some memories
still floating on a clean
light sound without vibrato
on those cool, lazy, steady days
of fingers that brushed together
and when laughter caused
summer’s winks to ruffle
our reflections until they wafted
slowly as distortions,
and unfamiliar interlopers
were settled on the surface –

masked by palm sized, verdant
leaves they sent sylvan charm’s
unused taught light to graze
the perimeters
of popples still rippling-
busy with song – bursting
onto new horizons
but with hope
reverberating inside melancholia’s
ever decreasing circles.

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