Up and Away

The brandished mirrors of the dew

grew restive as the daylight grew;

soon winked away, the myriad gleam

regrouped in subtle plumes of steam

that were as soon removed from sight-

all of this brief as it was bright.

We felt . . . I wouldn't say bereft,

but certainly abruptly left.

The world, indulging in its wont,

said, "Now you see it, now you don't."

The billion drops that dazzled there,

now lusterless and lost in air-

why such a rush to rarefy

and leave the meadow drab and dry?

Why couldn't they have stayed to fling

the morning sun at everything?

But if they hadn't turned to vapor,

would I be putting this on paper?

Worn out, perhaps, by shining so,

they found as comely a way to go,

and found in airy boundlessness

a fair exchange for shimmer. Yes,

one could do worse than evanesce.