969 Readings | 2 Ratings

Coupling constellations

The green leafy gaze, a loon on
the lake.

By night mice in a dish, when the torch
is on. And squirrels want fireside.

I cut into the tip of my finger the first
day, need layers when I enter the
water.

A death among reeds, we watch
at nothing for nearly an hour.

The dragonflies multiple by midday,
prism-like water below us.

I dream of the canoe rocking, arms
a tilted windmill, yet word is I’m working
little.

The moon casts over the islands tonight,
black pitch made sun white by tomorrow.

This cedar and soil portage, now useless
with a map of water.

Goggled liked a child, survey the moss-
covered stones, a fish.  I swim.
Posted 02/19/11
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