Guest Poet Pam Gebhard
Blue Wing
Grass enfolding brackish water
the dog himself, immersed
against my will
he holds,
my pause ...
Sweet, reflecting disbelief that this is spring
and sends waves
to the other, arcing shore.
I am jealous of his zeal for it
I have won little in my eyes
but here, a heron, forsaking mate
comes straight
out on the edge
from what she held
until we broke
then cleared all sight of me ....
A simple flight, a moody undulance,
blue swallowing of sky ...
and I imagine earth slipping
out,
on our way home, dog taking lead
never looking around
for the ripples off his back
for the floating assignation
my trust,
his path ...
A shifting of the higher ground.
June, 2002
Pam Gebhard's questions:
Is it clear by the end of poem, that I have surrendered
something of my human self, to the dog leading me home?
I had one reader tell me that "I am jealous" and "I have won little in my
eyes" is confusing. Does it seem too strident?
The heron taking off, third line on, second stanza, the choice of short words
seems natural for "the action", do they work or is it too much work to read
them, to get her taking off?
Suggestions, comments, please? - Pam
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