Today the water is so still, so clear,
looking down through the window of my mask
it seemed for a moment possible to fall
through fifteen, twenty feet of crystal nothing
in which the small fish, fork-tailed grey and black,
or silver with the faintest touch of blue,
hang like mobiles in a grandchild’s bedroom.
Who would dream this ambient element
could ever be harmful to health –
that such a rock-garden of weightless comfort
and the fatal reassurance of shifty light
might clap a bag over your breathless soul?
Here even the valley of the shadow of death
has taken upon itself the mantle of beauty.