Poem 67 of 230: AT A POND
By habit,
At a pond,
I look down
Into it,
With the wish
Of finding
Signs of life -
Like goldfish.
At Glasgow’s
Botanic
Gardens neat,
There echoes
Such a wish,
In the form
Of a fern
In a dish -
With such fish.
(These days, though,
Native-ponds
Are my wish.)
(C) David Franks 2003
By habit,
At a pond,
I look down
Into it,
With the wish
Of finding
Signs of life -
Like goldfish.
At Glasgow’s
Botanic
Gardens neat,
There echoes
Such a wish,
In the form
Of a fern
In a dish -
With such fish.
(These days, though,
Native-ponds
Are my wish.)
(C) David Franks 2003
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