The spirit moves,
Yet stays:
Stirs as a blossom stirs,
Still wet from its bud-sheath,
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngrbu8o_V2hqzx5Q2kfBQMfdOi3vOIDTeZHpir9Ctq3-fVFJg14xKVUziuGlTcmjzAD3gkCabGlOesIWAfEWLLUnc8L0VQL8Mqq8_og2So3smerXOL3jLzx3obp1o9zRtqxIDVAF5KWc/s200/tumblr_lyumzhaZRR1qc24vdo1_1280_large.png)
Turning in the light with its tendrils;
Plays as a minnow plays,
Tethered to a limp weed, swinging,
Tail around, nosing in and out of the current,
Its shadows loose, a watery finger;
Moves, like the snail,
Still inward,
Taking and embracing its surroundings,
Never wishing itself away,
Unafraid of what it is,
A music in a hood,
A small thing,
Singing.
"A Light Breather" by Theodore Roethke, from The Waking: Poems, 1933-1953. © Doubleday, 1953.
Photography credit: detail from "Re-hearted," by Marianne Sormunen (originally color).
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