Triangular peaks are the Emerald City,
faces painted a green that sparkles.
Clouds are breath on a cold morning,
creeping across the middle –
foggy white slices.
The reflection ripples in inky blue water,
the remnants of glacier melt.
The glassy image clear like a mirror.
Girls giggle on the gray sand shore;
their limbs like growing fawns –
all gallop and splay and big, sharp noise.
They argue, and they laugh; they play,
the Emerald City their backdrop.