Looking Glass



A mirror hang on a tree, to scare crows, or

perhaps it was for shepherd's goddess to

comb her golden fleece? Its light reflected

on the ground- quick as a breeze- a ghost

of a mouse looking for its burrow?



Far off, amongst green olive trees, I saw

sheep the colour of clay, lawnmowers on

four legs, they kept track of their lambs by

baaing, each one had a distinct bleat, baas

from their young, had a pleasing euphony.



Clouds sailed across the sky, clippers and

schooners bound for India; tea, spices and

other delights, the tiny ghost had found its

tunnel. I looked into Alice's own mirror,

and saw the blankness of cancelled time.