Telling by Linda Taylor Kane

It comes to me sometimes,

what happened,

but when summer haze

wraps around these mountains

making them reflections

of the ones behind them, you can't tell

if they're fibbing about themselves,

or if they're really there.

They drape like drowsy shadows,

as though you could see right through them

if you just stared hard enough.

That's when I start to question:

Did it happen that way?

But the next morning when I wake up,

the day will be clear and cool.

Each one of these hills will be

right where it has always been,

its crisp blues and greens reaching up,

claiming its own named place.

Just so you know, when I'm telling you,

it's all in how the light plays.

--Linda Taylor Kane

Previously published in

LIGHTS IN THE MOUNTAINS