The first time I saw it I knew myself,
a bluegill skimming limestone and silt,
moody as elegy. I dredge the lake, sift
memory for the overture, the shoal and shelf
of Radnor — no sign of introduction, as if
we were never not acquainted, no hint
of the boots I must have doffed, hurried footprints,
mud, pondweed, the deep wading in.
Sequestered from the city, this refuge is rhythm-
kinship: larkspur, yarrow, and phlox, otter
and owl, heron’s hush, ostinato of water
and bank, turtle’s groan, dragonfly’s thrum.
A fusty bluegill feeding, resting in shale
and muck, the trebled wind, glissando of scales.
Image: Bluegill, by Melissa McMasters licensed under CC 2.0.
Annette Sisson’s poems can be found in Birmingham Poetry Review, Rust and Moth, The Citron Review, The Lascaux Review, Typishly, One, and others. Her book, Small Fish in High Branches, was published by Glass Lyre Press 5/22. She was a Mark Strand Scholar for the 2021 Sewanee Writers’ Conference and 2020 BOAAT Writing Fellow. http://annettesisson.com
Latest posts by Annette Sisson (see all)
- Scaling Radnor Lake - October 10, 2022