Saturday, June 25, 2011

Black Pond

There is nothing so special
as the sound of rain
falling on a million leaves
early in the morning
early in the summer
along the shores of Black Pond.

The sound of a bull frog
carries across the pond
and returns an echo
off the far stone wall.

This is the pond I sailed
with my wonderful daughter
delighting in every step
of rigging the mast, boom and sail.

We did not have enough time that that day
to make it to the far shore.
Someday perhaps we will.

1 comment:

johnpauljustlikethepope said...

I passed on a chance
to stop at Black Pond
Even though, for a while,
I intended to go.

I am always drawn to it,
but for a while I was decided
to make my way
to its still waters
that so perfectly reflect the moon.

The course was set
in the stone of my inner will
But this stone passed
and when it did
I found myself headed home
by a more direct route

Some other night
I will make it there
but tonight I am glad
to spend more time at home.