summer_jackel

Did you feel it, just now---
somewhere in the dark water, at first
just a bump you might have imagined
but then
a more definite touch, the caress of
wet silk over long, smooth muscle,
distinct slime---
A big catfish?
A very big catfish?

Outside, the moon is high and quiet
illuminating the trees.
In here, the hopeful pattering
of paws across the floor
and an old cat's contented purr.

Joy could be a rockfish, watching carefully
from her place in stone,
for years and years and years;
joy could be a steelhead
flashing flickering upriver
or a shy guitarfish, on the seafloor
and then quickly hovering away.

Against a wide gray sky
tall with coming clouds in slate and storm
one mallard stretches, feathers
carved from dark, his webs extended
seeking ground.

may like this shining mallard drake
you alight with splashing joy
in sparkling waters softened all around by tender-green
and thick with lilies

Time has passed.
We have been somewhere
like this before, but still, not this place—-
these are different animals
we are different creatures, breathing
the same air,
rejoicing
we are not yet gone.

Turning, once again we come to center—-
the owl rising beneath a clear moon
the mallard winging upward into morning

would you take a sapphire from a coydog’s jaw—
when we drink from paw-prints, under moonlight
we will taste the morning, having sampled all that
came before—-
could we meet some times at the confluence
of rivers and of oceans
might we touch
might we run together
might we love

Salamanders

This salamander rests between stones
in clear water. She is stone-color, with darker spots
and small, dark eyes. Her gill-fronds fan lightly in the water.

She lifts her tiny, smooth brown fingers,
then puts her hand back down again.

A pebble over, just the tail—-
a dark stone in the water
the rest of the salamander is hidden.

Happy April to anyone who might actually be seeing this! It's national poetry writing month, when once again I will attempt to create one poem each day for the next 30. Let's see if I can make it again. Many of these will no doubt consist of a few lines about ducks, and I am certainly not going to do them for all the tarot cards, or even the major arcana. But we'll open this ritual with the Fool.

Fool

The fool took to spring on a morning in April
when the plum blossoms flower and waterfalls play
With a collie in motley afrisk all around her
she danced at the cliffside to welcome the day.

But look where you’re going, demanded the collie
don’t you see the sharp rocks and deep river below?
Great catfish will swallow you and shaggy bears will follow you
You’ll find more, sharper things than we guess at or know.

The fool kissed the collie, her eyes bright and joyful
see my scars, little dog, and know I’ve seen pain
it’s not the desire that makes me the fool here,
but to know what love does and then seek it again.

O taste the cool river, its depth and it currents
take the air, and bespangled in blossoms, my side—-
Then they took the leap surely, with pleasure, in beauty
and beneath the sweet sunset, they danced in the tide.