Lotus For Sloping Knees
LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES
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the contentment of disheveled twigs
sitting on shoulders of humming trees,
the sunlight wafting shades on meshed nets---
it is before early morning, pale always ever,
pagan and pliant as the swoon
of winged winds. after all, while village trawlers
tug the day’s haul of buttery clams,
salmon and weeds,
the river washes its feet unobserved.
even when the hills fondle the peaks
of embossed leaves, there is no time
for human leisure on the streams, not yet. not till
compass’ hours stray too long, tedious, unabated
for folk fishermen to haul the orb ropes
and slug aquatic baits in exile, washed
from sea wine that cradles trout’s liberty…
many a time, when incandescent beam
envelopes all things gentle and sunlight drifts
on lotus flowing, rowing; as clouds hover odorless
upon sloping male knees: fishermen become
the fishes darting free, finally tranquil…
content as disheveled twigs lying
on shoulders of humming trees.
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