There is a pond in my backyard.
But its waters have no sparkle,
or Koi, and I fret over its mucky
bottom as its burps up fleets of
late summer algae blooms
that cling to its edges.
The creatures there would gladly
seize me; were I to misstep and
skid on elbows into its murk
where snapping turtles are large,
and languid and hell-bent on
destroying me.
But how was I to know? I’d crushed
their old comrade while driving that
blasted truck, rolling through high
grass in the surrounding fields. But the
snappers hate me no less for my admission
of guilt.
Meanwhile, the cattails sway in the breeze,
While the heron steps in the shallows
and the blackbirds weave their nests.
A muskrat lingers in a hole in the bank,
and a rabbit is crouched and shivering,
while a weasel waits for its chance.
And it was six months later; I discovered
the old soldier lying pressed to the ground.
I thought it strange before realizing it was
I who’d stolen his days in the sun. I’d see
him no more on his sunning stones, but how
was I to know?
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Comments2
I love the pace and the pictures in this one...........
Thank you, Lorna!
Its so wonderfully descriptive, I can see the murky pond, the grassy fields and ornery turtles. I really enjoyed it!
Hi Kiera,
Thanks so much for your encouraging words!
Hi Kiera,
Thanks so much for your encouraging words!
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