in this morning light bright,
the weather cock is silent.
not an atom moves or rubs its back
against this sea of matter black
and velvet air
one pearl in cosmic ellipse.
i doubt that angels exist.
what colour would be their eyes
i wonder
could i catch a silver trout,
pretend that i am Hugo?
those pearls, they are her eyes
and i fear not death by water.
i love the fragility of this poem.
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