REFLECTION

This poem deals with that trickster, perception.

REFLECTION

Spring sun streams
through a winter
grimed window -
and happy though I am
to welcome warmth
returning, such light
reveals my lack,
reproaches me
for months of sloth
and grubby indolence -
now the search begins
for rags and vinegar,
energy and resolve
yet to emerge like crocus
from the glacial sludge
of yearly hibernation –
still, perhaps a sweeter
option opens: wait
until the cold sun,
that tattle-tale, descends
behind the cedar tree,
switch on a table lamp -
magic! Reflected
on the gleaming glass:
a perfect room
and smiling face.