what is perfect to me may be just an irregular shadow

"If I waited for perfection, I'd never write a word." Margaret Atwood

what is perfect to me
may be just an irregular shadow
of a tin pipe
tarnished in the sun

the perfection of a moment can only be
the one that is most fully experienced
the still point between the out-breath
and the following in-breath

even the thoughts of wondering how...
no person ever goes
down the same uneven
pot-holed road similarly

some can notice the clear lines
of feet parallel to ground,
while others take notice
of the first of the sails being

raised on a still temperate morning
so early we can, with deliberation,
detect the rich citrus scent
of an orange peeled at midnight-

while looking up
at the almost full moon- it's golden
solemnity pooling through
all the sleeping eyes

and those, such as mine,
looking at yours--from a distance
of a million stars, close
enough to taste the sharp

points made by a super nova
overlapping with the smooth
awakening fruit, rolling
into the creases of a poem

words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15