vermontpoem #41
this morning the lake is still
no ripples mar the surface
not even my own as I swim
no little swallows (black tops
white bellies) dip and wheel
to catch their insect breakfast
their name I think is “least
swallow” usually there’s a dozen
no rower in a swift skull near the
far shore no plip of a feeding fish
but a thin mist is rising for the air
is 48 degrees above the warm water
last night was full of activity though
two owls calling to each other from
far sides of the water a hoo-hoo duet
our lonely loon’s eerie cry – again –
then again – followed by a loony laugh
and when I woke at three and looked
from the porch onto the glass mirror a
million stars had made the lake into sky
©2014 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in Oct 16-22, 2014.
