1.
When he took me, the two-track was hardly visible. The grass was bending over the hood, as high as the windows of the Rambler. The shore was a rich dark brown scattered with white stones.
When I took her, the grasses were short and faded covered in dust from the gravel road. On our walk down the trail 1 collect discarded bottles, cans, wrappers, and bait containers, putting them a the bag that once held our sandwiches. The shore is ground to a fine dust.
Quiet.
“Pop,” the opening of a can echoes, loud voices follow.
She turns and says, “It’s okay Pops.”
Glassy lake surface
Splash! fish clutched-Osprey talons
Glassy lake surface
2.
3.
Waking from a daze
dreamt I was a soaring bird
as I fly away
Changes over time, nice to not so nice.
Souvenir of an avian visitor.
Thanks, Joe!
You’re welcome Bob.
The first time I went to Spring Valley was in college, about 50 years ago (how did I get this old? I still feel like that college kid.) It was a much less traveled road. I miss the days I could go out there and have the whole place to myself. Your post brought me back to those days. And the great blue heron “ballet of wings” and “fish clutched osprey talons” is just what I experienced last week, but so much more lovely in your poetic language.
Thank you for you comments about my post and poetry. Time does pass by quickly and nature keeps doing what it does. It is good to notice the beauty alongside the changes and maybe change how we interact with the that which is around us.