Today's prompt at Poetry Thursday is "plunge"
This poem has been waiting to be written for a while, but I resisted, as it felt influenced by Mary Oliver, and who wants to compete with Mary Oliver? The word "plunge" was just the nudge I needed to try and set it down.
Let me tell you about shags,
how they sit for hours on the branches of trees
above the river, wings outstretched
like laundry on a line.
They are entirely unsuited
to an aqueous life, lacking oil
in their feathers. Hour after hour
they sit, waiting for the sun
to relieve them of their burden,
for the water to rise in a mist.
And then, one sudden,