IN GLORIOUS CROAKING

Fear is the deep down death of all things
Untried, untested, abandoned, like
Frozen fruit trees in perpetual winter, or
Tailor-made garments forgotten on the floor.

Regardless of all, in thrust and in fall,
So says a spirit of identity sought,
“I for myself and He for no other!”
A greed-soaked stain, riven and raw.

An identity sought in the eyes of others, pleading,
Needing to be understood, loved, forgiven.
Yet all for nought if not thyself and
Inner parts are left bleeding.

The tumble-down fits of froth and flow
And eddies silent and circling, mask
The dark down boulders, sentinel smooth,
Steadfast and unyielding.

Yet plumbed mountain pool, surface smooth and turf-bound,
Yields hidden colour, creature, and crevice.
Dragonfly, alder, newt and toad fair fancy in spring-fed waters, where
Undisturbed life in glorious croaking and splash doth dwell.