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  • Sharon Scheenstra

Reflections on Refractions




Myopic,

a meandering microscope,

I notice and focus:


a firefly

a fallen feather

a phrase in Ephesians

a distant bell

a new unfurling fern.

Here, on the wildest stretch of Jersey Shore,

it’s every small a-glistening shell.


Barefoot, bent over, wading

for a fleeting glimpse of glossy color.


Grasping fast – as for a fish –

before sand sucks it in

or retreating waves

tumble it out of reach.


Stooping now


while counting on

and counting down

to the coming Day of daring

when I will unfurl, straighten up and stand,


when I will lift my face to the Whence of every lovely thing.


Sharon Scheenstra





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