In that uncertain interlude between light
and dark, time stretches extends the likeness
of the opposite shoreline further and further
into the lake smoothing its surface
until barely undulating, the water creates
an imperfect mirror.

Unhurried, the sun dips
casting autumn colors across treetops. Orioles
whistle sail from branch to branch
where they are fluorescent
in the remaining sunlight.

Sky turns from pale blue
to dazzling cobalt and suddenly
a lamp is hung high above the water.
It spreads a glittering path
across the black surface of the lake
and someone names the blue moon.