Sunday, March 22, 2015

the koi pond

At the koi pond, time stands still.

No movement forward, no movement back,
no slow no fast spinning ’round a dial.
A shadow creeps.

Koi rise to the surface of the pond,
move their jaws,
flip their tails,
flap their fins,
weave through and around one another.

Earlier in the week I picked a seed off Josie’s back. It was about one-quarter inch long, wheat colored, a thin reed in a conical spiral with a relatively large hook extending from its wide end. From the other end a small tuft of something dangled, as best I remember, for although I saved the seed for a day or two, knowing exactly where it was even as all else moved and jostled around it, begging my attention, challenging my memory, there came this one moment of carelessness when I forgot the seed and so it disappeared.

Around the koi pond, roses bloom, their fragrance heavy.

What seems to be an ancient magnolia stands nearby. Its lumpy trunk is thick, massive, beefy, and thick, undulating branches stretch far, stretch wide, nearly the length of the pond, and the tree’s shape is conical.

We move neither forward nor back.

No comments:

Post a Comment