On the green pond
faint ripples roll slowly,
just kiss the bank. Beside
this quiet water, you don't
have to pretend to know.
Unseen fish snooze
in mud. Frogs--they grunt
and chirp. Birds flit and fly
and riff their trills. It isn't
nature out here. It isn't
anything you have to name.
Eyes wide open, you sit
in nowhere. You're here, it
seems. What seems? It.
hans ostrom 2022
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