On Easter Friday gliding on the lake
a solitary duck is painting trails
and ripples temporarily awake
the water all around in tiny waves

On Easter Friday just under the surface
another duck does all that in reverse
and as if this were organised on purpose
one does not know the other’s universe

The trees ashore are silently polite
in mimicking the scene, the ones below
perhaps aware that something is not right
unsettled even though they cannot know

Deciding which is real might be an error
next time you see yourself inside a mirror

Today my friend Nigel posted this photo on Facebook and I felt compelled to turn it into a sonnet.