Not sure why sharp images (both photographic or poetic) calm my nerves, but those are what I'm trying to see and curate these days.
. . . . . . .
in a
narrow
ribbon
of water
between
ice
sheets
four
trumpeter
swans
float
on the
clouds
. . . . . . .
the
indigo
sky
flecked
with gold
reflected
in the
dark
eye
of a
trout
. . . . . . .
from a
treetop
in the
fading
light
a
blue jay
scolds
the
shadows
I found a part in each of your three poems and made something new (with a little intro needed for verb tense) Kevin
(A flock of)
four trumpeter swans
flecked with gold
scolds the shadows
Thanks, Kevin!