THE ADEPT, THE ADROIT
SKIMMER ACROSS THE
FACE OF THE POND
Just like the water running its sideways
rivulet through the mud and silt, I'm
sitting where the rocks run themselves flat
'twixt water and grass. A few trees here low
overhang. Over to the right, the long-abandoned
cabin I'm staying in leans and wilts like some old
mid-Summer tree just a'hanging in the noonday heat.
Nothing moves more than a shimmer; the adept,
the adroit skimmer across the face of the pond.
On the outside wall somehow still hangs a
shovel and a rake. No one's imaginatively
touched them for years - or leastways for
seasons. An old, wet curtain, remnants
really, hangs out of what once was a
window and a ledge. Like the Bible
would'a put it...'Dampness was
on the face of the Earth.'
Just like the water running its sideways
rivulet through the mud and silt, I'm
sitting where the rocks run themselves flat
'twixt water and grass. A few trees here low
overhang. Over to the right, the long-abandoned
cabin I'm staying in leans and wilts like some old
mid-Summer tree just a'hanging in the noonday heat.
Nothing moves more than a shimmer; the adept,
the adroit skimmer across the face of the pond.
On the outside wall somehow still hangs a
shovel and a rake. No one's imaginatively
touched them for years - or leastways for
seasons. An old, wet curtain, remnants
really, hangs out of what once was a
window and a ledge. Like the Bible
would'a put it...'Dampness was
on the face of the Earth.'
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