WORK IN PROGRESS
“…there is no lost feast at the bottom of memory…” Hass paraphrasing Pinget
I stop by to see
the swan. Spring light graces its
long neck. I’m aware
the swan I see is
different: it’s head
and half its neck plunged beneath
the dark water. Were
I a poet not
a bottom feeder, I would
not feel a thing now.
Sun on the swan’s back—
salt and fresh brimmimg, the cove
is full of goodness.
……