For the Record
When the eye of a cormorant winks at you
across a salt marsh fringed with cane
and hyacinth, as the giant winged shadow lifts itself
scattering a spray of murky water into a steel gray
sky over the Florida Panhandle, you must stop
what you are doing, whether that is rowing
a rented boat, driving the coastal highway, or
daydreaming in a vortex of shadow.
After years in the land of darkness, the sun,
a cool silver disk, rises slowly to the surface
of a lake, shudders in the dawn of primal dew.
If you want, you can hold it in your hand,
hold it to your lips and blow. Quick, make a wish
like on the dry seed of the dandelion, light will shatter
casting shards of broad leafy green and golden
sunrises tomorrow and for many days thereafter.