Sitting on a bench by the little lake
I stare at a pair of swans that are fake
floating and twisting, looking real.
I smile and look around for a feel.
Two white birds descend from a flight
Their speedy bodies land with ease and delight
Webbed feet glide on the water to brake
Then stillness! The birds blend with the scene of the lake.
A few feet away, two tiny nostrils show
up for one breath, then down they go.
Under the water, a turtle’s shape appears
for a moment; then disappears.
A distant mist invites the eyes
to catch the dancing fireflies
where the sun shines through the water drops
up on a manmade fountain top
Rises a mysterious slender neck with precision
like a submarine with a secretive mission
disappearing magically without trace
reappearing deliberately at another place
To the fake swans my gaze returns
to watch their illusory twists and turns
Smiling at me they seem to ask
a genuine question, a difficult task
Looking within, have you figured out
what real and fake are about?
As I consider, the eyes spot yet another thing
A cormorant bird sits after a day’s diving,
spreading out its weighty wet wings
inviting the afternoon sun for a drink
Ah! That Submarine Bird! I think.
Mamata Misra, March 2018
(While this experience has taken this poetic expression today, it was felt one afternoon, during the MBSR Practicum in Ft. Lauderdale in Spring 2016.)