Don't Mow my Mirage

"I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers." Sylvia Plath

In my deserts
Are heaped rocks, heady roads, and heavy loads
And Highways
Teetering on the tops of drops of valleys
And Low Roads
Lingering along the autumn dune alleys
And lakes and ponds and puddles
Shimmering beyond normal sight
Glimmering in waves of sun and sparkle in the musky light


In my deserts
Are thin-edged gray waters and misty yellow yachters
Too thin, too tiny, to tell from my perch on a tower of sand
with no bell
And how I wonder how they sail upon these waters
with no well
In waters,
fluttering more than flowing,
grass-high above the hard pan
farther from my eyes
than my eyes understand