In the lake’s stirrings,

the night light reflects

a hundred electric eels

and a school of moon fish

dispersing to the shore.



And so it was determined by mirrors,

and of course, science,

that the mountain peaks

are earth’s roots

and the ocean depths

are our endless heavens.



Never would I swear to you

that a tree is just a tree.

No, every last one is its own burning bush,

each figured in its shape;

a bell

which rings and tells

in dripping limbs,

in clambering roots,

and hollowed stumps,

one same sworn song,

reverberating, what’s already



Amanda Rachelle Geers

Woodinville, Washington



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