Beginning, arriving; the thickening of all
blessings; the fullness of this
sky full of migrating hawks
all day, once the morning
finds its zenith.
A streak of unknown
light on the lake
is un-remarked but not unnoticed
in the slash of seams at
the edge of uncountable
years.
And those who sailed and
paddled these bays, coves, creeks,
passages
so long ago
have left a flash of thoughts--
no more words or marks--
but nonetheless a vividness
of presence,
an imprint.
Today, tall sedges
beyond
the spillway sway…and
gray water stirs
a sleeping idea
at the source of all reflection.
-Kevin Macneil Brown
