On windchime wings, silver things
Glint on the lake, sleep awake—
In fevered glass, meadow grass
Through dancing blades flicker shades
Dark eyes, vivid in their vanishing
From deep spring
Black beneath the fathoms
When they rise
Breath, pale as frost, floating lost
Mist, silken, drifts, never lifts
Head full of haze, out of phase
Dawn breaks in two, overdue
Bright flash of day—surface play
But in the deep, secrets keep
Dark eyes, vivid in their vanishing
From deep spring
Black beneath the fathoms
When they rise