The Pond

poem

There is a pond in my backyard.

It has no sparkle or Koi,

and I fret over its mucky

bottom, and algae blooms

that cling and fume on

those treacherous banks.

The creatures there would gladly

seize me; I've only to misstep,

skid on elbows into their murk,

where the snapping turtles are giants

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.

Still, the snappers hate me no less 

for my admission.

Meanwhile, the cattails sway in the breeze,

the heron steps in the shallows.

The blackbirds weave their nests.

A muskrat lingers in a hole in the bank

near a rabbit, crouched and shivering,

while a weasel waits on its chance.

And it was six months later; I discovered

the broken shell 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 longer on his sunning stones.

But how was I to know--

Reviews

[Lisasview]

I do not think I have ever read any of your work and I was pleasantly surprised when I began reading this one of yours.
Such a great story told in a smooth and flowing way..
I just loved it...
You might like one of mine ...perhaps Awaken....or...
Lisa

[willweb]

That was a cool adventure into your backyard pond, though the end was sad, I can say it is the first ever poem I have read that mentions a muskrat. I haven't heard that name since I was in high school and a friend would trap them for their pelts. Now, I am not really into that kind of stuff and feel bad for the turtle that met it's end. Nice one.

[Mike]

Hi Will, I knew I'd break new ground if I only kept at it. I just didn't realize it'd be in the form of a muskrat, lol.

[willweb]

It's funny how things like that happen. :)

[Mike]

Indeed it is. Every time I look out the window, something new is going on out there; a couple of days ago, I saw a mink.

[willweb]

Wow, now that is cool. I don't believe I have ever seen a mink out in the wild.

[Minnesota Fats]

Pretty good stuff. How was I to know. That is the question.

[Mike]

Thank you Minnesota!

[Casey Truax]

A great nature portrait, full of activity, held together with an undercurrent of guilt.

[Mike]

Hi Casey, sorry for the delay in responding, and thanks much for your input on this poem. Yes, as you pointed out, there is a tinge of guilt in this poem, but guilt is what you're left with when why finds no answer.