Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Cormorant I

Cormorant I

The cormorant pops up,
Bursts the smooth surface.
He wags his dark head
Back and forth, scanning
The pond – compares the
Dry with the watery.
A moment in the air, and
He slips beneath again.

From the dry shore, it seems
Serene: blue sky smiling
Back at its face in the pond.

Beneath that refractive film,
The cormorant flies,
Weaving his dark head on his
Neck like a striking snake.
Little fish dart into the weeds,
Seeking frantic for safety
From that sharp beak.

As much at home
Flying in water as
Paddling the air,
The black bird
Sits low.
He glides smooth and fast,
Braiding his two worlds.

At last he climbs out
Onto the broken tree
And spreads his arms wide
Indifferent to the smiling sky.



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