An oily smear on a still pool.
A friend obliquely watching
Drew close and said: How beautiful!
Perceive the rainbow pattern
On the wandering surface.
And I replied: Observe
The objects caught in oil;
A cork, a feather,
The corpse of a bird.
He eyed me sharply
And I wondered after
What flitted through his mind.
But as I asked I knew
The answer to these things.
My friend's bird's feathers
Ran with oil, my own thought
Clogged its wings.
©Terry Hodgson2024
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