blues transpose
against each other,
broken into
patterns, as
threads barely stitched into air
become one with sky—

a shadow
rests lightly, almost
unnoticed–
awaiting
disturbances in the web–
summoning futures,

the castings
of circumstances–
eyes glinting
like mirrored
kismetic intersections
of orbiting moons

A shadroma quadrille for dVerse, where Merril has given us the word mirror.