Poems like fishes all come swimming past –
so many, innumerable, all going so fast:
I’d like to try catch-one but shoaling they fin
into a whirling ball, silver, all wild in a spin!
In a blur they wheel past me and gone in a flash –
in the silent, still water – not even a splash,
but in the comforting clarity, enveloping fold,
of the crystal clear water its not even cold.
So floating I drift with the tides and the lace
of intricate seaweeds, across oceans I chase:
below fantastical chandeliers, by the sun lit –
the tentacled colonies of jelly fish – I flit.
In the depths a rare shadow: of hope a faint glimmer
in the distance before me – spy a brilliant shimmer!
One day shall I catch one, one day to be sure
will I land my fine catch upon a far golden shore.