Koi
The smallest are pond bred, slip stitches
of the bright selves they’re turning into.
The larger ones quicken the hour, shimmering
along the deepest channel and settling for constant
change. Today the pickerelweed blooms three more
purple spikes, the lizard’s tail leans farther from its pot.
The fish with black-tipped fins and two white streaks
on its head swims straight down the middle, then
without pause, turns from the cool pleats
of the waterfall and swims back, as if to unravel
a mistake. The others thread in and out of rushes
and spatterdock, near the dragonfly that scissors
on the iris above. They know the shady spots
and the one that brings a late-afternoon shower
of food, as in the pearled light they gather and rise
above trees and sky to knot the day’s loose ends.