Potential Heart

by Suzann Kole

I watch the starwort, hyssop, sweet-flag,
and slow-rooted current persevere once again
through the tough, ledge veneer of this island.
My heroes; these survivors, who, against all odds,
poke forth their burgundy heads amid the thin
grassed corridor of gold; aside the plover,
folded in the sedges of shallow water
below the road
while a sharp black slicing of wings
bullies itself through the cawing
of seeded winds.
Orb snail on cinnamon teal; a shudder of sporadic sleep,
how the uncreasing of heaven lends blades of light
to the blackness of this gathering:
salt marsh in a dizzied effluence
and red tremble of late morning