Revelation
Claude Wilkinson
What is it you’ve looked at
that quickened your next breaths,
left you beholden, stunned
with its essence in the earth:
perhaps an ungainly buzzard,
of all things, unafraid and staying
high on the wing while buffeted
about like a plume of soot
against rolling storm clouds;
that glittering carp swum
from its cover of amber water,
flashing now and then
along the clear shallow,
so at home even without our air;
symbios is made flesh
as morning’s white herons
shop a low river
and fringes of swamp pink;
or, just making their flight into open field
beneath November’s yellow canopy,
the suite of honey-colored, tined,
rut-ready bucks
glimpsed through the lens
of such golden noon light?
Issue 11, 2019, pg. 10