The Endge

The E(n)dge I leave damp mudprints there where I met the shore. The dragonflies' dances, the goslings scrammed, and I for now (or 'lo, for once) exhaled. Edges do that. A turtle somewhere spied me not spying a frog; quick to leap. And splash! My eyes follow my ears. A biped clown, here at a threshold. A stronghold of thrushes. And red-winged blackbirds... briefly visiting tufts and reeds. When I go I think it likely no memory of me will remain no indication, no story, no song. But where my callous kissed the muck. Invert puddlings, concentric whorls. A fish somewhere, like I, determined to visit an edge. Marks with its 'foot'prints, lips breaking the tension, A visit to the start of Sky... now gone. We each leave our prints. We leave each other's memories, in time.