A small brown leaf lands
upon a crowded koi pond.
Finding stillness, it sits in
the smeared green image of the
tree from which it fell, the light
of its origin, unknowing of all
but its contact: water, the brush of
koi fins, the rush of light wind.
We float like fallen leaves
upon a black silken sheet
of our own reflections,
rippling in jagged lines,
spreading into nothingness.
We are only here.
Dani Fruehan is a fourth-year student at Penn State University Park enrolled in a five-year BA/MA program for creative writing. Through this program, she has studied under strong and established writers, who inspire her to always write her truth. She also works as a writing tutor and as a Workshop Coordinator for the Penn State Learning Writing Center. She loves to write poetry and has been published in previous editions of Klio/Kalliope.