Poems from the Past

July 22, 1999

Graceful heron,

swooping across

the evening sky

like a pterodactyl,

Prehistoric bird

perched on a treetop,

my heart swoops with you,

then stills,

standing by the silent pond,

waiting for the night to settle

around us both

softly as feathers.

*** *** *** ***

SONG OF THE FROGS

July 9, 1999

Song of the frogs

in the fading light

soft fade the hills

in the falling night

God touching earth

with a gentle might

and all is beauty

within my sight

soft falls the light

on garden walls

a rose-hued mountain

as day's curtain falls

a froggy symphony

serenades the night sky

and grateful, grateful, grateful

I.

Two poems from my last summer on the West Coast - Port Albion, a small community in a tucked-away, undeveloped area, half an hour from Tofino. I lived in a teeny basement "suite", on a pond, and Pup spent his days blissfully roaming. He even gave loud backtalk to a black bear, who swatted its paws at him, which didnt deter him from getting right in the bear's face with Attitude. Pup never backed down. Alpha to the last moment of his life.

Every late afternoon the sky, the mountain I lived beside, and the pond below, turned this most glorious shade of rose.  One night I was standing by the pond when a heron flew right above my head. And every night, the frogs sang to me. It was heaven. Late that same fall, I moved here to Port. Sigh. Pup mourned, as did I, the loss of our wilderness Eden. He would sit at the window, looking out at the city streets. Anyone who thinks dogs dont grieve, check out these photos:

"Where did my wilderness go?"

I felt - and feel - the same way.

This is posted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry. Happy Weekend to all!