by Bill Keller
Pools
Rain refills the narrow pools
that flank the trail, swelling them
with shadow, stillness, stench,
darkly rotting birch stumps,
vague masses captive at the edge….
I take another step, squelch
in a reeking muck that I’ll
carry for a while, and this
is when the frogs jump
straight into those inky pots
that ripple and camouflage;
this is when I see an eft
emerge with blazing, pristine,
neon-spotted skin and
gold-banded, jewel-perfect eyes!
