Lay-lar

And through the crowded seas Where schools swarm, Orchestration alive and unbound, Do fins and scales neither clash nor glance. Oh! The display is vivid, It is a ranging verse unto itself, This artful piscine foxtrot In the murky deep. From a point of vantage, A quiet seat by the quiet shore, They become an old man's fancy, These fish that dart and arc In the feet below the surface Where the sun may still warm. Methinks they scuttle with purpose, Though a fish's ambition simple, But to be, As they are, Wisps, spirits, flecks of reflection, Is a purpose noble enough, To an old man. His seat quiet and his eye content, He c