Archive
05/22/10 - (2)
A Mallard
A high wind is thrusting the swelling waves, pell-mell, Northerly, out of Honeymoon Point, toward me. It's amazing that, for all their vast, fluid torque, The haven't sufficient force to collapse this dock, Where I relax, watching the gusts take the lake to task.
May 22's tumescent half-moon, Already quite a bit brighter than its azure backdrop, Positioned at ten o'clock, on the sky's face, Can see me, my diminished speck. I'm certain it's reading every word I'm scribbling.
Off to my right, in a blinding halo of molten gold, The sun, with just less than an hour to go Before it disappears into twilight's western approaches, Keeps my shivering flesh from sending me indoors For the rest of this eternal evening.
And now, as I contemplate Saturday's denouement, A single mallard, its green head gleaming, Wings past me, in the direction of Minnesuing Creek — The grace and beauty of all nature in one creature, One minuscule piece of the infinite cosmos.
05/22/10 - (2)
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