Natural Masks

Trapped momentarily in wind and ice,
not etched in cold stone,
we emerge: faces in a crowd.
Shifting as if by season,
we appear incomplete.

A smile on the May breeze,
a tear in a dark river,
a frown in fertile soil, 
a laugh on an October leaf,
we peek out of ourselves.

Through the alchemy of light
or a momentary blink,
we transform yet again­
a multitude of ghosts
walking in the same house.

Our various selves stumble in
and out of the flickering shadows
we cast in other¹s eyes­
a series of stuttering movie cells
we hold but cannot claim.

We unfold by touch and sight
shuffling out of moment
into warm sun or stormy sky.
We evolve into ourselves­
a similar face with different lives. 

			D. A. Foster