The Well of the Moon (Poetry)

She smiles down at herself —
her silver face
gleaming in the dark still waters
floating there —
as though her twin swam up
from depths below
to greet a sister — drink
the snow-sharp air
and contemplate their likeness —
mirrored coins
tossed by long-dead lovers wishing for
the moon...
their shadows move across the rocks
loom large and sway
to a lunar wind’s far-off
discordant tune.