Arrival..

The early morning sun shines on the
diamond dew of the spring grass,
coaxing me down to the pond.
I sink my body down on the soft, wet earth.
I wait with a full, warm heart.

The red winged blackbirds  dance
up and down on the dead dried stocks
of yesterdays reeds.
They scream with excitement
at new life rising from the dark brown water.


The swallows swing low and
scrap the water,
snatching some nourishment from
the skin of the pond.

The old boat sits half beached on the shore.
I can hear the squeals of the summer children,
and the gentle plop of the oars,
that starts their adventure.

 As I sit,
breathing in the new green life,
My face warmed by the sun,
My ears full of the grateful sounds.
I prepare a gift for you.


I pick the first soft shoots of reeds
rising from the muddy bottom
of this every spring pond.
The sweet, precious green
rising from the deep muddy pond.

I weave a basket for you.

I will take the smoke from the fire
and the ashes of the past,
And place them carefully in the basket.
I will set the basket afloat on the the pond.

I will wait for your arrival. 

Nx