The sky in the pond
doubles the soft, changing day,
ecstatic with blue.

Three swans on the pond,
the November sun setting —
they love each other.

Rain on the koi’s heads,
rain on the creamy foxglove—
swimming on this June day.

I had six goslings
now I am mourned, struck, broken—
this year on the pond.

Standing on this spot,
thinking of that other shore,
my mind can make it.

Beauty and sadness,
not wanting to be careless
with either of them.

Green algae jewels
skimmed in through her lowered beak,
the only sound here.

The deer on her path,
the blue heron on his pond,
dusk comes while we walk.