In the pool open truly
to the yard, sky,
I skim a wind's flippancy of
fir and white pine needles,
a million red maple leaves draped
like tiny apprentices to the past,
one lime-bright locust frond.
What I know of chlorine
makes basic adjustments
to future algae, green and black,
beetles abide, bloated frogs
tire, turn and float.
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