The Catcher and the Caught
Like the swift night-black blue of a
cormorant as it suddenly dips
into a rush of white cold water,
eyeing its possible food, we too sweep
down on what we think we see,
rising wet sometimes with the reward,
or hapless, dripping, we try again.
cormorant as it suddenly dips
into a rush of white cold water,
eyeing its possible food, we too sweep
down on what we think we see,
rising wet sometimes with the reward,
or hapless, dripping, we try again.
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Author's Note
Love is possible food.
Other stories by Philip F. Clark
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Lovely parallel.
Yup
Splendid!
* love the note, too
So nice. Perfect.
"we too sweep
down on what we think we see"
Love the analogy.
*I love this.
Cormorants are so unappreciated...I observe them frequently. Love this.
Felt like the truth. *