Voids Poem by James Mills
Voids
Rushes shade the shallows,
dark heads nod -
agreeing with the breeze.
Dads tap dashboards,
Mums watch their own
kids skimming flattish stones,
not, exactly, aiming at swans.
Further out; plunging
from grey to utter black,
water splits;
Blue-green mother bird is
plucked, squawking downwards,
sucked under,
bubbling her final anguish.
Downy brood circle the vortex
nudging broken water.
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8/28/2026 3:40:46 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
