Afternoon Poem, April 18, 2017



The rill slides over the brown rocks

Laughing as it goes, clear as the spring air

The riders passing glance aside at the stream

Under the budding canopy

There in a blue pool a dark  dart

And here in some slick channel

A tiny dimple on the surface

What moves?


Farther up a blue heron lifts from the water

From the ravine

Its wings so broad, so slow as to seem

Floating, weightless, effortless

All beneath the shade blanket

Of maple and elm.


copyright 2017

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