FISH FORECAST

The goldfish in the pond are feeling doomy this morning.
It will continue to rain. They sit there
at their windows staring out, wondering
if it is them. It will remain overcast
until this evening. It is the rain teases
the doomy thoughts out of them. They luxuriate
in grey thoughts and weedy thoughts.
The sun has given up today, having failed
to identify them in their resplendent suits,
and they ask themselves if they can even be said
to have had anything to give up.
Visibility poor, gale force nine backing.
It was probably only what someone happened to see in them
when the sun was on them and when that someone's
sight was warmed and clarified by the sun.
It is the slashing of rain
across the windows and the hissing of wind
round the edges and corners of the pond
and some kind of brown thoughts stirred up
that allows them to leave themselves
and to step lightly into unfamiliar bodies
above the surface near the apple tree.
The wind will die away towards evening,
so they are at liberty to wonder for a while
who they might be and what the point of staring is.

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