Night on the River
At the Rogue’s edge
the moon falling
bumps its yellow nose
on the cattails
and brown frogs
spew melodious echoes into
the deep pools
beneath the ripples.
A blue crane is perched
like a blue cloud---
or a mood of remoteness
in the grasp of some odd power
while all around me the red salmon
are splashing upstream again
from the bubbling beds
of black gravel.
In a while, I’ll think about
what I’ve observed---
what it could mean---
what poetic thoughts I might
write about it, and so I think
I will go sit before my keyboard ---
I shall rest in my thoughts ---
I will reflect
into the vast nightfall
in which I am swimming now,
like a silver fish,
so easily,
so gracefully,
I am almost the salmon ---
almost the crane fading over the river
on black clouds of night.
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