Out in the wilderness behind the house just before you get to the bluff overlooking the big hollow( It feels odd spelling hollow when I have pronounced it big Holler all my life) there is a small pond. It holds more stories than water. It dries up almost every summer now. When I was younger it held water year round and we used to fish there all the time. I wrote a series of folk tales once, narrated by King Isiah, a bullfrog. Most of those stories are set in and around a pond not unlike this one.
Petey the Wonder Dog used to walk up to the water's edge and would try to bite the water. It was funny to watch. I don't know if he saw his reflection in the water or what.
Here's a poem I wrote about the pond.
Blackbirds
with red wings
sit in cattails.
Clouds
large, fluffy and white
hang from a blue sky.
Bullfrog
eyes float on the surface
of a small pond.
Dragonflies
flitter above the water
dangerously close to
those prehistoric eyes.
Later
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