Pond Song 3.61

There are fertile equivocities that just in their resistance to complete determination or self-determination impel us to the edge of ultimate mystery. G&B 124

toothbrushes gather mid-ocean__above the pond today

nothing but blue skies__white gulls gyre away

at the top of their lungs__from the sound of it

bees crowd the beach rose__beyond where I sit

dozing in the sun a hum__human traffic dim deep

down at the water’s edge__fat ducks rounded in sleep