Pond Song 4.11

What is of creation in itself and what is of the origin? GB 39

bare oak white wind__the emptiness of tall

cold Robinson Jeffers__above the pond stall

gulls zigzagging down__on the dark water blue-

black forms rock vaguely__Canadian geese passing through

Pond Song 4.10

Does a Hermes surprise us in the wake of the angel of death? G&B 35

clear skies fresh snow__the word is splendid or

pristine yes hyperbolic__black cries of crows soar

over the ebbing pond__almost silently the tide passes

into the concrete culvert __ shadow of stiff grasses

Pond Song 4.9

Midwinter thaw. Hazy sun
   hot white in the tide pool
behind broken clouds. I’ve begun
   the Sunday walk to God's school.

Ducks rattle between slabs of ice.
   A heron stands stalk still in snow
gray as a shadow. There are no
   shadows but the heron will suffice,

could be my shadow standing there
   nothing between us until that is
it meets my empty human stare
   and rises leaving me with this.

Pond Song 4.8

Sunday again the pond empty

         the wind glitters with loose snow

the heavens hammer steeper blues

         there are signs to take it slow

wind at my back and in my face

         the silence thickens with each minute

the horizon opens beyond sound

         a crow’s call with the crow in it