Vlinder

The night brought little relief. The heat lies heavy on the landscape, like an unwanted duvet. After a short night, the sun begins its blinding arc once more. We need a cap to cast our eyes in shadow. We make the cap so large it becomes a canopy.

The canopy must shield us, but not too much. At times it dips downward, at others it lifts its head. Asymmetrical, it dances between opening up the view and offering shade. It seems to flutter. A colourful butterfly, or a small tropical bird.

Shade helps, but so does water. A pool lies in the grass. The surface ripples and quivers. It shimmers. Reflections play across the underside of the canopy. The canopy ripples too. It shimmers too. A jewel of still water. Two expressions of the same material, or perhaps not. Perhaps more like the side of a dune, patterned by the wind.

When the sun is done, another short night falls. Everything reverses. The light comes on, and the canopy becomes a glowing shell. Reflections from the canopy flicker on the water’s surface. A robin sings. The air is still.