Monday, April 13, 2015


A fluid skin unpierced by wind
Immobile sheen reflecting blue sky
The pond is hushed now
Silent as a watery grave
Nothing stirs, nor croaks
And where are you?
Amphibious changelings
Flippered mermaids of muddy margin
Winter was kind; spring benign
What malignant threat ensued?
The pond is silent now
Its spring ambassadors absent
And my head argues calm
But the heart is ill at ease
Lest the world is running down
And each new spring is made smaller