Log Turtle Pond Dusk
shadow smooth,
mossy-lime shapes,
inconstant as frills
in a play of breeze,
and yet
a knuckle on a log,
a pond-shell oval,
reclines so meek
above the darkling water,
almost fetal,
this turtle of the serene eve,
tucked into a serenade
of lulls and swells--
of stars and Venus
and the revelries of croakers.
============================
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment