September 21st, 2016
The letter is K for Kingfisher
The kingfisher rises out of the black wave
like a blue flower. In his beak
he carries a silver leaf. I think this is
the prettiest world - so long as you don't mind
a little dying. How could there be a day in your
that doesn't have its splash of happiness?
There are more fish than there are leaves
on a thousand trees, and anyway, the kingfisher
wasn't born to think about it, or anything else.
When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the
remains water - hunger is the only story
he has ever heard in his life that he could
I don't say he's right. Neither
do I say he's wrong. Religiously he swallows the
with its broken red river, and with a rough and
I couldn't rouse out of my thoughtful body
if my life depended on it, he swings back
over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it
(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.
For more interesting Ks click here to visit
with many thanks to
Roger, Denise, Leslie
and all keen helpers.