Saturday, October 17, 2009

Down at the Pond

  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.

with red wings
sit in cattails.

large, fluffy and white
hang from a blue sky.

eyes float on the surface
of a small pond.

flitter above the water
dangerously close to
those prehistoric eyes.


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