Walking at Commonland Pond

Thank you to Kind Over Matter for publishing this poem of mine. I'm happy to share it with you, dear reader.

How is it that the grass, in the tea time light,

shines neon, like blades of stained glass?

The shadows are crimson, maroon,

an alien contrast.

The ineffable beauty of this place

fades my melancholy

as the first red-winged blackbird,

twin to a French stilt-walking shepherd,

perched on the cattails beside the pond,

sings to his mate

declaring that spring is bowing a graceful defeat

to summer who is about to wash the land with hazy heat

as the sunbathing turtle

slips beneath the cool green water.

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