Phantom Fipple 0127 Initial Version

Daybreak. A lake. Warmth wakes the world. Blue sky.
Green edges bustle with a breezy sniffle
which sets the brake-line singing in reply.
Screen sedges rustle, as if phantom fipple
had muted both their moans and reedy cry,
transmuting tune-true tones to whispery sigh.
Some jesting dragonflies skim down, so shy,
quiescent waters sudden part, dance, ripple:
ingesting fragile golden frame and eye.
The freckled fish break surface, dart, prance, riffle.
In silence snow-white swans slide slowly by,
their pinioned wings belie the will to fly.
So, too, in life the strong devour the weak,
while most in silence pass, too scared to speak.

(12 March 1977)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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