A closer look at a fertile pond.
solid cold granite hard ice dances with the sun
tiny pools of water melt, coalesce and burn with grand ideas
we could form a pond a lake a river
rotting leaves float in rising water
twigs, dead grass, pond scum, beaver wood all join in the dance
a floating matrix gives birth to miracles
water striders ignore gravity
skip over open water
dive down and pop up at will
munch on larvae
are munched on by others
spiders skip along the debris looking for a feast
become a feast
the sun powers this dance and overwhelms me with wonder
After this miracle of nature I wandered among a pond littered with old Cattail puffs sitting elf like on their stalks.
Some even had faces and stared back at me as I poked my lens in their face.
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Hello Trent, Wow! I loved, loved your pond poem and the pictures. What a wonderful world is hidden there in plain sight. The cattail with its resident face made me laugh. You truly have a magical lens! You likely don’t remember but I spent most of Grade 5–8 spring noon hours flat on my stomach down at the slough just to the west of the school house (all dried up now) watching the drama going on every day. Eat or be eaten, skate across the water, croak for a mate, big black fierce water beetles with their pincers; it all fascinated me. Thanks for this trip down memory lane. I was 11 years old again. Many happy memories. Thanks so much. Love you, Nola
Oh my goodness Trent!!! Hidden – not hidden – this poet has escaped and treated us with a pond poem that could vie with the mightiest of poets who ever looked at nature with an artist’s eye! I am baffled though how the cattail assumed a familiar face!?
Love.
Shelly