June Second
Between banks
of peach-leaf willow
overhung by white oaks,
sunlight plays on the
green cursive current.
In an eddy, as if blinked
there, a pike hovers
like a struck tuning fork,
his ruby eye revolving
with the tight circles
of a captive wasp,
still buzzing as the surface
breaks and quickly mends,
tracing into shaded shallows
an almost playful panic.
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