Fugitive Thoughts

In warm and shallow water
on the causeway’s eastern side
carp, long as my arm
and two hands wide,
float suspended in the sun.

I walk out to the lighthouse
and one by one,
my shadow falls on each,
and sudden as thought they vanish, glide
into the muddy deeps.

 

 

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This page created and maintained by
David Flanagan
Ithaca College Dept. of Writing
flanagan@ithaca.edu
Last modified 3 March 2004
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