Get Your Premium Membership

The Kingfisher

The kingfisher is the diving tip of a rainbow, a chromatic splinter, a deadly certainty piercing sky and water. All morning it has perched high atop a dead tree. The sun rose softly (good for fishing), but now it glares and deflects the eye, yet here in this swift instant, a gaudy arrow of light, plucks a small silver fish out of nowhere, rises until it is not even a shadow, for a harsh sun has already hid it.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things