The day was
calm, the sea still like a salt marsh.
Everything
still, its short perched body still
on the tip
of a stone along the dam,
a cluster
of still dots around the blue back,
the orange
breast and the long beak.
Just before
spotting it you had been stopped
by
stillness itself, sand and air
in their
absolutely settled vast velvet.
One step
closer and it flew off
skimming
the water-skin, a silent
straight
line of fast beating wings.
All sounds
were muffled
in this day
of low, glowing haze,
so you
could say it was in the air
the praised
pace of those lines
-At the
still point of the turning world…-
with the
simple shiver of a truth beyond words.
No wing
then answered light to light,
the colours
of its body would retain it all.
But you
sensed all the same
the mute
fullness that makes the world turn,
the heart
of stillness where the gaze
ready for
marvels just waits.
2 comments:
This is quite superb, especially the last two lines which to my mind take it to a deeper layer altogether.
It also seems to be another example of web synchronicity: I have a poem, half finished, featuring a kingfisher. It was to have been my first Cloud poem, but I left it to respond - with yesterday's effort - to the dVerse prompt. No doubt I will post it anon! (it will not take anything from this little beauty, though!)
Lovely poem and you've really captured that air of still anticipation
I've seen kingfishers twice in the past week!
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