On monochrome field I cast my gaze,

The better to see my bogey friends,

That slide through shadowed haze,

And jump aside as scrutiny ends.

To analyze shape is to be sneaky,

To focus off-center, a better view,

Else off they go fast and freaky,

To jerk away and hide from you.

There’s one now, a gauzy thing,

Folded and punctuated black,

It swings along, a bird on wing,

And swirls and whorls on track.

Another set, just points of ink,

Half dozen sail by on a twitch,

Like gnats — in half a blink —

Black as coal or shiny pitch.

Pervasive, pixilated shadows —

Like local dark matter interstice —

Curtain my soul’s faded windows,

Clear views I’ve come to miss.

Doctor says over floaters I’ll win,

Given some time and gentle care,

Don’t use knuckles to rub again,

And no boxing, or retina will tear.

© 2009 R. Leland Waldrip