Independence Display

The lake looks painted, spirals
in oily ripples
from where my toes touch the surface.

Water mirrors sprays of sound and light and color
that burst in fading sky,
blooms of bright blues and whites and reds.

I swat clouds of bugs, float gently,
glimpse my brother
watching, quiet in strobing dark.

I am one of a silent hoard staring above,
bobbing on curves
Shaken in the sheet of reflections.