Watch the patches on the lake
to forecast the morning:
reef glitter and clear-to-the-bottom
means an early swim,
bare skin puckering as the water stirs
with my slow steady strokes.
Skulling backwards I see,
that like the duck beside me,
my moving body
makes a perfect arrowed vee.
She heads to shore. I would keep going
to the far horizon
lulled by weightlessness that this quiet ease
could last forever
YOU ARE READING
The Risks of Remembrance
PoetryIn Ann's poetry, images become language; a language that directly grips the observer/reader. We come to know by the word and by the image. Like Plato’s cave we get glimpses of light among the shadows. –Jane Burns, painter/printmaker Ann Elizabeth C...
