In place of turtle and floating lotus,

I see him, released once from cased plastic,

As many suns orbit his enclosed lair, expanded and contracted with seasons,

The oversized carp, alone, takes laps

I had once seen the mangroves, still water broken by excited residents,

Dark oceans, lit as orbs raise squid in the night

The rivers, swelling and overpopulated, carved drama into my commute

Yet now, a carp, alone, takes laps

Such is an English pond, a time for reflection

Not for drama if it can be helped,

Perhaps an achievement in stationary growth

But after all, imposed, limited strokes.