Float

Upon the still, blue‑tinged pond,
A feathered leaf begins to float—
A soft, slow pirouette of thought,
Where water sighs and light devotes.

It drifts past reeds that whisper low,
Past minnows flicker, silver‑bright,
Each ripple sings a mellow glow,
A quiet lullaby of night.

In dreams I, too, would love to float,
Weightless upon the summer’s air,
To taste the calm, to note, to note—
The world suspended, soft and fair.