A boy falls into the Northwood lake.
Everything is on fire and blue;
all the wax melted off his wings.
Upside down, on his back, thrashing and raking the blue.
He looks like someone I know.
One arm rising up into the cotton sheet of the sky,
the other swinging down to grab thick mud.
Waving to the red-throated loon above,
loving the brook trout with their smooth bellies below.
He almost looks happy.
I call out to him again and again.