I had written a poem there, dated 4.21.1991, and there was also a revision on the facing page, dated 5.28.2002. I smile thinking of that saying, “A Poem is Never Finished, Only Abandoned.” Since I don’t much like the word abandoned, I reconsider.
This poem will not be abandoned, because I find myself working on another revision as my memory of that long ago day becomes vivid:
The Santa Barbara Bird Refuge
A goose stands on one leg at water’s edge;
it’s long neck stretches over a glassy sheen,
and a squat duck on one leg,
pecks under its wings.
Similarities and differences jostle
to make an imprint on my perception.
Feathers ruffle in the wind.
A silver cloud floats across the sky
like a large, slow barge.
The carnival of my mind
And the longing for which I yearn,
bursts into into light
like a golden swan rising up.