In the obscure dark
of night river, poised on rock,
the shag preens itself;
head tilts this way and that, beak
catches gold from a streetlamp.
Night Fishing
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In the obscure dark
of night river, poised on rock,
the shag preens itself;
head tilts this way and that, beak
catches gold from a streetlamp.
You must be logged in to post a comment.
A moment in time, a fragment, but perfect in itself.
As Jonathan says, a perfect fragment.
A beautiful poem. The gold in the darkness shines out. It has a spiritual quality which is extremely moving.