Silver Creek In Flood

 

These live their felt natures; they know their norm

And live it to the brim; they understand life.

      Robinson Jeffers, “The Broken Balance”

 

 

 

 

So quick that his place is where always you look

And he is no longer there.  Even when he is still

In a way you have no patience for, he is shifting

Just a little like silt, or perhaps it is only the light

That catches his shimmering, rippling the surface

Of as far as you can reach with stick and string,

 

Testing whose hunger is stronger.  Come dusk

You will leave and he will stir from the deep weeds

Where he settled to wait you out, and leap again

And again at bugs on the water, skipping the surface

Like a silver stone, coming to the edge of all he knows

Or will ever need, his life more beautiful than yours





Poetry by countryfog
Read 660 times
Written on 2013-04-24 at 20:11

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This a wonderfully (though, in your case, typically) well-written piece, and its subject is quite appealing. Even so, I disagree with the final line. Anyone who has the time and opportunity to observe what you have leads what is, at least occasionally, a beautiful life.
2013-04-26



A thoroughly absorbing piece :-)
Reading this, I felt the felt nature of the creature. I may have things topsy turvy, but I seemed to be swimming underwater, rising briefly or launching upwards for a tasty snack, the edge the surface.
The relationship between you and he captivates too. Applause!
2013-04-24



Beautifully written. :) I'm picturing a dragonfly?
2013-04-24



After reading this I have to wonder about R. Jeffers's quote. Was he referring to hawks? You've tapped into the secret lives of critters. I've often thought their existence only comes into existence, seemingly, by our observation. The reality of that creek, though, must also account for herons, who have more patience than we do.
2013-04-24