Bon Di

The Beaver Pond has never been so clear.
The transparent water shows the truth
That lies there on the bottom revealing
Like a moment of inspiration and creativity
Those furtive verities that sometimes come,
Flashes of light between relaxed breaths.

The soft greens of the healthy plants below
Blanket the dormant fish, frogs and salamanders
Kindly, protected from the freezing night air
That has dulled the former brilliance of leaves
Turning the alder brown, the cottonwood yellow,

Turning the long summer to the Advent of Winter.

This clarity mimics my nascent insight
As I see my emotions dormant but healthy.
My Spirit frolics with the ducks on this purity
Ducking their heads, splashing as I would,
Then swimming down under water, happily
Flapping their wings across the glassy surface
Before they return to the shore for more corn.

The merganser who visited yesterday has gone,
His services were unclaimed. Even after
Swimming heroically back and forth chattering
He remained resolutely alone, estranged
Singing his un-welcomed poetic verses.
He departed unnoticed, taking with him
His handsome, majestic plumage
Unappreciated except by me, who he feared.

My life is just this simple and this complex.
As I sit akimbo on the low, solitary, post seat
A kingfisher arrives and complains loudly
Asserting his right to this sacred territory.
I will have to leave for my meager lunch
So he can find his breakfast, undisturbed.
I return, enlightened, home;
in this small way blessed by nature.

Bon Di

I.J. Hall, November 13, 2003