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Mark Thalman

 On the Dock at Evening

 

The lake and sky gradually darken.

The highest peaks hold the sun.

 

All the fishing boats have gone home.

 

A trout lifts miraculously out of the water  .  .  .

another and another, until there is a brief flurry.

 

Where I laid my morning catch,

scales flake off the wood: stars,

whole galaxies moving further apart.

 

I have lived my life for just this moment. 

                                                                                                    Published in Poetry Now

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