Pond Savings Time/ Historical Reverie

Earth rises gently, subtly
Against the falling Sun
As we do each evening
But this Time is now—
Visited as we are – the black dog and I --
By a giant, green bull-frog
Scorned no less as invasive species are we, by himself -
Yet fleeting – as the Kill Deer mocks our presence
Beside our own pond!

This Time behaves irrepressibly anxious.
Perhaps because of the intense joy I feel
Relaxing here on this half-log, rocking-bench
The water of the striped pond moving all in front
In various circles prompted by unseen forces
Calms me and chides me for my impatience

As Time runs surreptitiously ahead.
Not unlike my own life
Driven to accomplish ideals that do not concede to logic
We rush headlong into decline like Sun
Because Earth turns under us notwithstanding.
Listening closely we hear a slight knocking,
Vague sound coming from the Wood Duck Box.
Such a welcome secret can only be a good portent
For both this Nature that surrounds us
And for my life
- anxiously we await their début
those harbingers of joy.

As Sunlight diminishes the unctuous voices
Of so many frogs in a choir encircling us,
-Except the one nearest is silent
Content to watch rather than pray-
Like Gregorian Chanters, sing forth
Blessings onto us and anyone who listens.

The orange glow of our fading Sun
Is celebrated by splashing fish and a sonorous swallow
Well after its proper moment to feed
Calls his companions as should we –
But we don’t
- we sit and hoard the solitude
Remembering fondly previous shared Time
Bemoaning the distant Space and Inhumanity
Which separate us from those glorious moments.
The Pink sky adorns the graceful cirrus clouds
That wisp and clutter the graying dome
With a dense texture of comfort
That pillows my restless soul.
Only recently have I allowed myself to appreciate
How happy I am during these solitary moments --
If it is possible to count this Time as solitude
Harangued as we are by petulant pond noises.

If I were to share this witness
Would it by that communal sentry
Be more sacred than perceived alone, now?
Would my own happiness be more obvious?
There is room here on this rocking-log for two
As indeed all the seats around Beaver Pond
Are thus contrived to host two dreams as well as one.
But just as this huge frog chooses to sit
Quietly, patiently with us,
So will I sit quietly, patiently, observant
Until the allure of my Nature draws another here.

Where are the Bats tonight?
Again I am impatient.
Their company would be a diversion.
As the Purple drains from the sky,
Our amphibious companion seeks shelter.
And as dusk deepens, Time likewise escapes,
But not before we are graced by the first Bat of Night.
Now too, the two White Chinese Swan Geese
Who own this place and are never separated
Have joined our party – at a convenient distance.
What a beautiful couple they make.

And our delight takes on more qualities
As our five new ducks play on the old tree
In the border shadow cast by new trees.
They call and tease sweetly, clinging to each other
As if by their closeness they are made less vulnerable.
Alone or together they live at risk
But by this simple caution, they divide,
Thus reduce the troublesome reminder
Of their ultimate aloneness.
Could I, should I, do the same again?

Then we who watch contently become objects of inspection
As a curious Nutria swims back and forth in front of us
Questioning our motives. After three turns
He leaves with the sure knowledge that his habitat,
The Beaverlodge, is unaffected by these strange creatures-
We- who only occasionally menace from ashore.
He is the smartest animal in the water,
And he knows we are so much less than he
Because we can only safely reside on land.
How could any animal, so limited, be a threat to him?
Clearly I am not, as he is not to us, but Cocoa?
So, we each relax contently sharing only curiosity.

Darkness blesses us too soon with so many noises,
As described, an euphony of hymns that enlighten us,
So we make our way adroitly in the dark,
Returning for repose to our other home.