does its image appear
a squall in the distance
of time and mind
an albatross
skimming the waves
on its endless flight
a shadow of a shadow
walking the edge of the earth
on pattering feet?
There, now, for an instant
like a breaching lord
of the roiling sea
on horizon’s throne
then gone as swiftly
as if a vision in a dream.
By what craft of sun and air
does light deceive the eye
and make us question
what is real real?
Neil Ellman is a