.
with mirrors the aging face
became personal
before, it hung only on the heads of others,
but with awareness that the still surface
of a pond returned the image of the seer,
when polished metals revealed a troubling truth,
when a silver-backed slab of glass
served up serial images of bald fact with precision,
denial was impossible
the aging face with each sequential glance
became a self portrait, a biopic
in intimate time of film frames
on a reel of spring fields
which, between glimpses,
had been raked by a ruthless gardener
determined to turn fresh life into that
which can barely be remembered
Jim Culleny
11/16/15
Blink 