Sunday: The day to indulge a poetry addiction.
Flying Fish
by Carl Sandburg
I have lived in many half-worlds myself... and so I know you.
I leaned at a deck rail watching a monotonous sea, the same circling birds and the same plunge of furrows carved by the plowing keel.
I leaned so... and you fluttered struggling between two waves in the air now... and then under the water and out again... a fish... a bird... a fin thing... a wing thing.
Child of water, child of air, fin thing and wing thing... I have lived in many half-worlds myself... and so I know you.
Photograph of a flying gurnard by Elaine Duigenan
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