I am a water pond
still and deep
receptive to nudge of wind
moving me as I had not imagined
in ripples of welcome
from those who land, troll, flit, dunk, glide on me
like an open palm.
I offer the chance
for trees growing alongside
to see reflected their strength, sway, fullness, scant.
I give witness to what changes my surface and depth:
tickling breezes, dancing rain, terrorizing gales, plops of guano,
season after season of falling leaves.
Oh to contain this magic soup, cradling, sustaining–
tadpoles, dragonflies and those I cannot name,
thank me with their lives,
sing summers in baritone and visit with fancy wings.
I am reduced and replenished, know overflow and lack;
the rhythm is not my own to plan;
I harbor the worry of stagnant
but daily rejoice in being
still, deep, ready.
~ November 29, 2018