The Pond - Poem by James McLain
the MAJOR END a ' Curious POND'
to see how much deep was l fond/pond
my hand in lt' plunged;
the major end- but s' is quickly withdrawn
when it felt the cold to encircle my arm as an icy support.
Still testing, more careful, it's envisaged the catch of darkness
and of the cold- while my fingers probed
the depths for the stones
and mud and my arm are descended lower and lower.
Nothing. Nothing to feel and discover.
the pond was deeper at its major end ' I' d forever imagined
all in it s' raising on its board in day or hand I/her end…
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