Fisher King
A giant egret paces along cliff edge,
observes subtle tides, cold slap of water,
seeks squirming grail, swarming anchovies.
He turns a golden eye to floating kelp,
detects moving flashes of silver, spears fish
from dark seaweed where they’ve been hiding
Shivering in anticipation,
the albino angler throws back his head,
brunch leisurely swallowed.
A giant egret paces along cliff edge,
observes subtle tides, cold slap of water,
seeks squirming grail, swarming anchovies.
He turns a golden eye to floating kelp,
detects moving flashes of silver, spears fish
from dark seaweed where they’ve been hiding
Shivering in anticipation,
the albino angler throws back his head,
brunch leisurely swallowed.
"Joyce used to say there are no coincidences, and the longer I live, the more I see this."
~Judy Liese talking about Joyce Uhlir
Post Drizzle Prism
For months we have begged stubborn heavens to open,
forgive us our trespasses, gift us with moisture.
Now, in the aftermath of this season’s first downpour,
we are dazzled by drizzle, prismatic reflections.
Sunlight bends around rain, refracts primary colors.
A rainbow hangs against lavender fogbanks.
Beneath its fading arch, a dolphin pod circles.
Silver dorsal fins dissect incoming waves.
Good luck totems dominate hazy horizon,
delight undeterred, morning walkers.
Is this absolution or brief relief?
Has drought finally broken?