There it is again
the white spot
on the window glass.
I turn quickly--
nothing--
a flash of sunlight,
a falling leaf
descent slowed
by a cushioning breeze,
the glimpsed underbelly of a sparrow--
or She
who walked here before,
pausing in her travels
to greet overgrown dahlias
or perhaps to clear the weeds
from the base of an old rose
given by her daughter
on a distant mother's day.
(Image: Jules Joseph Lefebvre, Ophelia; 1890)
