The Pond
My garden pond is filled with life and promises.
It is an oasis where the kindness of soft and fluid beauty
Extends a hand.
I am fully content in its delicate ambience.
Juncos and red breasted robins arrived
Before water had even reached its edges,
Ready for a drink and a splash.
Copper colored dragonflies shimmer,
Enchanting butterflies flutter and dart about playfully,
Layers of life nestle in this small habitat.
My pond is praxis,
It is a rescue shelter for myriad beings.
It is political prefiguration – if only each of us
Created refuges for our mental health
And lifelines for wildlife.
I silently observe the reflections of the edgestones and grasses in the water.
The pond becomes a meditation in eco-theology,
Calmly reconciling yin and yang, out and in,
The real and the unreal.
I become mildly intoxicated by the scene,
By my quiet thoughts.
My pond is a place where euphoria
Unmasks the necessity for moments of laziness.
It is teeming with life through darkness and light,
Yet it seems melodious and mellow and utterly balanced
As though nature knows mostly how to share
And very little about fighting.
