Parallels

I hear the piano playing
see the sunset 
and smell the breeze 
wafting from the dragonfly’s wings. 


Springtime tells us stories 
that smell this sweet, 
and so does an autumn sunset 
of the horizonless lake 
as the waves say hello 
and our feet see the sand 
for all the trillion miracles 
that it has always been, 


eyes falling only to fly high 
again when the old mariner’s bell 
rings. 


The light and the dark 
are brothers after all.