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Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
By The Lake
by Centa Theresa
On this day of unexpected summer rain thick fistfuls of cloud press into keyholes of blue. A crow bats his wings, swoops toward the water, rises in a smile, alights on a branch.
Grey sky illumines the ducks' orange webbed feet. These awkwardly shaped birds are unlikely candidates for grace, their heads a-twirl on supple necks,green beaks preening under wing.
In this park we celebrated my children's first birthdays. No pony rides today, merry-go-round down, and my children all but grown.
Whitman once said he would graft the pleasures of heaven to him, and the pains of hell he would translate to a new tongue. I walk now between rains, moist air engulfing me with insular affection.
Now, the rain tongues down, wind wafts across the lake's mirrored surface. Some ducks huddle by the side of the lake eating soggy breadcrumbs, while a few perch on nearby rocks.
Ducks are not literary, or solitary. They aren't looking for the missing key buried under wing, nor searching for keyholes of brightening sky. Yet, they are hardy and tenacious, preening their feathers as if washing their own children, deliciously, one by one.
Centa Theresa, M.A.-- Her poems have been published in various regional journals, most recently in Drumvoices Revue, and her letterpress edition, Blameless Recognition of Natural Light was published through Clamshell Press in '03. She is currently writing her a memoir and coaches & consults with writers and artists, with special interest in poetry, personal essay, memoir, and tiny fictions.
centatheresa.com
Twelfth Flash
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