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.
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