Willow
on the river
the moon reflected
fractured and rebuilt
by the movement of the water
only to be fractured and rebuilt again
in the summer-evening still
apologies for waves
lap at the punt
it feels poetic
as if ancient others
transported here
would be able to wane
more graciously than the moon
is this the stuff of power
and immortality
the prize of being able to create
something immutable
in the empty boat
his hands freeze
the water on the pole
especially cold tonight
he passes the willow overhang
where once he was entangled
and she laughed
misfortune or ineptitude
he cannot decide
knowing only that he feels
more vulnerable than before
hearing her laughter in the lapping water
seeing her eyes in the shattered reflection
of the broken moon
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