"These Movements"

“While out at camp, I came upon Lake Urquhart that seemed a reflection of the heavens; in appearance, it didn’t glisten as much as it flickered with the flames of a million candles poking through the glass carpet of night…”

The nations turn upon the hilt.
The hilt turned toward the sun.
The running back turned down the field;
At last—his turn—he won.
The stop light turned from red to red.
The driver turned the wheel.
The dealer turned the deck of cards
Before he turned to deal.
The wind returned to croon the trees
An autumn retinue.
And when the leaves turned on the lake,
My thoughts returned to you
For light might turn my rods and cones
And wakes might turn to rise.
These movements turn my memory,
As turning in your eyes.

by Wm. Rieppe Moore