Evening Pool

Trout bite for surface flies,
Their pouted lips
Printing the water
With planetary rings
Of spreading pink and chrome.

Some, more daring
Shoot
(Small living rockets)
Into an element
More rarefied than water.

Gills gasping,
After brief orbit fish–craft falter.
Wobble,
Plunge
Tail–first or belly–flop,
To splash down.

Broken water mends
In reminiscent rings
Of pink and chrome.


© The Estate of Dorothy Cowlin 2002–2021. All rights reserved.

This poem is known to have appeared in the following publications:

Home Page