Kingfisher

A perfect pool

as red as blood

the round eye

of the kingfisher

searches

circles.

Wings,

then stillness.

A path beside the stream

traced through the forest.

Irresistible becomes the desire

to cross the moving water.

Plunge, then, into

autumn’s muted mystery.

Stir up layers of fallen leaves,

step into unseen currents.

On the other shore

rejoin the path

new to you

familiar though

it becomes you

this meandering

exploring.

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