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Posts Tagged ‘pond’

The News

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Just as I had settled into doom,

I heard the wild call of the first geese of spring

come screeching through the window.

 

I leapt up like a woman desperate

for good news—leapt up and ran to the window

in time to see a pair land on the pond,

 

splashing against the water. They quieted

immediately after alighting. And then,

there was only the sound  of me watching them.

 

How graceful they were in the pond,

the water wrinkled behind them, as if their arrival

were the only news, the only news worth telling.

 

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One Unbaptized

 

 

filled with golden leaves,

the pond, and shimmering with sky

and me, too dry, too dry

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in the relentless drought,

finding inside me

a pond somehow still present,

an unstoppable,

insistent spring

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An Afternoon with Basho

Basho sits beside the hut.

He notices the pond, the frog, the sound
made by the frog.

He does not write about it yet. He watches
for a long time. A cherry blossom falls.

He listens to the sound the water makes
without the frog.

The sound a page makes without a poet.

Again. The frog. Again. Plop.

He sees himself a man wrapped around
a silence.

Perhaps you have heard it, too, the sound
the water makes before it speaks.

Perhaps you, too, have felt it,
the loneliness, the light.

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