A true act
of nature
is skipping stones,
an extension
of a skipping heart.
I see a certain
kind of fly
that lights quickly
and sequentially
over more
dormant water
like a swamp
or slow-moving river.
The darter speaks
to our aspiration.
A crisis will
slow me down
to solid thick
preparing me
for that time
when I dance
on the river bank.

–Allan Cox