Snapping Turtle

A piece of bark fallen into a pond

will eventually soak and sink, but not

this chunk of darkness, floating inches

beneath the surface, in which a cloud’s

reflection is dimpled a little, as if by

the touch of a finger, though no one

dare touch it. And suddenly it isn’t

an it at all, the mirrored water

altogether empty, just as it was before,

no shadow there, a floating cloud.