Night Poem, Oct. 12, 2017

 

 

Just after winter solstice the garfish raise from the dark depths

Somnambulant

Lifting like the strains from a chorus of strings

Drawn to the lengthening light, subtle and weak

Then heading upstream, writhing like snakes.

.

This is the first note of spring

And no one on the riverbank to see it

The long, coarse fish slithering over rocks

How many?  Can there be that many?

.

Teeming, like the first creation

Making their own white shoal

Their scales primeval, their ragged tails red-tinged

As they form a horizontal line across the river

Just below the first dam

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