Poem of the week: Pool by Rowan Williams

Tadpoles growing to reach the terrors of land suggest the universal journey of life towards mortality


A twig breaks. Promptly, obligingly
staging the haiku, one or two new frogs
plop in the water, where their younger
kin lie or skitter, hundreds
and hundreds of fat commas swept
from the compositor’s workbench
into the sandy shallows, hundreds
of little fat breathing pauses in the water’s
dull paragraph. When their breath
has pumped up shiny eyes and limbs,
they will wait too, throbbing by the pond’s

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