that the trees catch the light
along the east shore that says Fall
and how along the edges of the water
perfect trees plunge downward until
you see coral reefs and shoals between
the heron’s legs and the cast by
the fisherman from Vietnam I recognize
from night classes in a church basement
across town. I wonder if he will catch any
thing but leaves’ perfect reflections
food enough to fill anyone in mid-October.
By Pat Anthony
To read more of Pat Anthony’s poems please visit middlecreekcurrents.