Where the bladderwort and water lily
give way to bulrushes and pickerelweed
and cattail heads nod hugely high,
every day for a thousand thousand
she keeps her eyes in the pond,
under the wind. Everything here
is as cool as everything else.
In the filtered visibility
she can set her chin in the muck
and submit her gills to the endless wet feed,
her skin to the close, slack hold all over.
No questions. Everything here is here.
Now and now and now.