bronze mood of river


The crickets’ eerie premonition.
The bronze mood of snaking
river, mirrored in
cottonwood’s heart-shaped fallen

shield.  Identity’s an equal sign
in autumn – twin banks
the Mississippi makes
to fringe the tender almonds of a span

darken toward evening, of a year.
That wavy, sooty smudge
afloat below the bridge
no raven now, but King-bird, here –

old Balder Will, majestic, serene
sailing with the wind
downstream.  You’ll find
his imago, dispersed, unseen –

scattered in brown eddies, copper jags...
the soft green lichen
of anonymous kin-
folk.  King Who-He-Who-She brags

like Pharaoh, but it’s all a masque –
autumnal Shakespeare,
smiling through the year-
dregs... tears toward Phoenix-Pasque.

Chaste vision is an equal sign.
Justice like rain – drifting
magnanimous wing
from Cosmosphere, where all things shine.


bald eagle in flight, reflected below bridge

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