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38 All winter I wondered. My drowned animus and my mate's anima? Might Alcyone also mirror my own female nature? O kingfisher, what are you to me? A feathered marvel I longed to see . . . or my father . . . or his daughter fishing to understand him or become her own parent or find the courage to defend her godchild? Or do you hover to comfort my overcast soul? As I write beneath my riverbank juniper, in cruel April snow flurries, with two water ouzels singing and flying back and forth-- suddenly, with the familiar rattle, you, unmistakably white and blue, wing by me, too! Before you continue your flight upstream, you light briefly on lichen-decked rock, not too high up the canyon wall across the water from me. With naked eye, halcyon, I know now and then you'll return. |
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Issue #33, June, 2003 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.