This evening on my dog walk around the pond, it was the kind of grey where every shade of leaf, memory and minnow speaks vividly. I found the first blackberries of the season at the edge of the path. I ate a few just as a test then carefully carried a few more home to photograph. I protected the precious fruit as the dog pulled the leash to chase a groundhog. I let her off when she was on the scent of another animal. When I got home I set the berries to the side of Warren's photo shoot so I could compose my shot when he was finished. When he quit I went to set up my shot but the berries were gone. I asked about the three black berries he said "Oh I thought they were a gift."
I guess they were.
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together.
The pond by Louise Gluck
I guess they were.
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together.
The pond by Louise Gluck
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