A poem I wrote on January 26, 1986 -- over a quarter of a century ago! -- for a girl in my Wevill poetry class (I save these things):
Poem for a Water Sign
There is something left unsaid: for wounding eyes
a cut of silence bled for washing clean.
In frequent deep, voices unwed; lone
divers careless in this wet sky,
a stroke above the clouds that part their waves to meet God.
She swims to this sign: a glass-winged girl
heaven-sent, stirring sluggish soil
and flooding deaf horizons with the brook's gurgle,
a babble academy loosing its flow,
dismissing what may shatter stone.
There is no fear of drowning, no caution at the water's edge.
All is safe, she will say, in sinking to the sea below.