I Was That Boy
I took a length of hazel bark, carved a boat no bigger than a minnow and saw it float and sink. And, where it sank, an inch of silver flesh…
Poetry
I took a length of hazel bark,
carved a boat no bigger than a minnow
and saw it float and sink.
And, where it sank,
an inch of silver flesh declared itself
against the light, and was gone
Through the action of the wind
the clouds appeared slashed,
longwise, into rough black shapes,
like the remnants of a poster
stripped from a window.
I shivered and set flint to cotton grass.
Watched a thread of smoke
unhook a sycamore propeller
that drew the smoke dragonfly downstream,
where the bridle-path and river bank crossed.
It is the way of things,
the taking shape of things