OSPREY AND TROUT

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imagesThat sacred summer
I watched an osprey dive feet first
wings spread like benediction
when it rose with a silver, fluttering trout.

That trout, oh! That trout plucked from
the dense tug of water
into the effortless current of air.

Gasping with astonished breaths
that rash unknown sunlight
only now obscured by nothing, nothing.

Shuddering lips
tasting that sharp bite of
sage and pine, of star particles and  meteor dust.

Mouthing what! What?
That abrubt death and
that equally abrupt rebirth.
I’m asking you, have you felt it? I know I have.

That moment when razored talons grab you by the neck
rip you out of the sweet spiraled current of
your one native life
into an alien other.

What!
What?
I’ve been a trout
Have you?

Gulping and amazed at fire light and
the unsound emptiness of air
offering no rampart nor shore.

When death comes as Winter
a dream dashed
A love lost
An unwarranted “no.”

A life upended.

I think it will be like that, too
at the very end.
That astonishment that
sense of angry
and betrayed wonder.

Can you become a silver trout
with sudden, unexpected wings
gulping unheralded star dust
shouting Hallejulia! with your

rounded lips
when you are called to soar?
How outrageously new are
you willing to be?

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