All morning she sits there, eyes intent upon a leaf. The creature is perched there short of the bridge and the dark of its cavernous arch. It was perched there yesterday until it vanished. It’s perched there today, insistent on patience as only a kingfisher poised for a catch can be. The leaf pointing downwards catches both light and a sliver of shadow. The bird’s breast glows orange, wings unseen as a blue planet’s essence of aquamarine. She can make this object of  contemplation whatever she wants. Jewel of the river, the crystalline  tie pin that flew in a dart of piercing flight, skimming the waters of vision  beyond all worth, lost from the trove, dimmed to no trace.  She is the poet who deems it is here in the sway of a leaf, as the light increases decreases increases…

bank to bank
in parallel ripples
a trail

Diana Webb