Today's poem is by F. Daniel Rzicznek
On wet sand the tracks of deer, geese,
gulls, raccoons, all appeared alien, unreadable,
until: a single set of boots.
Who is to say the watersnake was not a god?
Flies adored the heads of stones half-submerged.
In the flying shadow of a dove, the catfish flexed
her whiskers, turned in her silty pool.
There were too many birds overhead to count.
Sun pressed down, a great skin over the whole river.
The smallmouth bass were voracious,
sending enormous ripples through flat shallows.
Gulls congregated on the shoals, shrieking and singing.
Something blue in the sand: lid from a jar of olives.
Something black in the air: first and last crow of evening.
There came a moment when the traffic
could not be heard, the houses could not be seen,
and I had to grasp, for awhile, at what I was.
The trees and the light crashing of their leaves
outdone by the current's ceaseless song.
Copyright © 2012 F. Daniel Rzicznek All rights reserved
from Vine River Hermitage
Cooper Dillon Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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