Today we welcomed a pair of ladder-back woodpeckers to Goose Lake. We are a bit out of their normal range but this time of year we get quite a few visitors. Yesterday I watched another migrant, a beautiful kingfisher.
Today I’m sharing something from my new eBook collection of poetry, GOOSE LAKE, A YEAR IN THE LIFE OF A LAKE. Each poem is preceded by a brief prose description.
This morning Goose Lake holds a cloud on her lap white and thick as a down comforter. Pity a Mallard lost on the water surrounded by Canadians — a tug boat bobbing blindly among freighters.
In an hour the fog will vanish. Like a magic trick its mist will freeze on trees, flashing diamonds on every bony finger, but for now Goose Lake is a mystery lady covering her secrets in a white wrap.
Yard lights on the far bank
wink like fireflies probing the fog
for safe passage.
My hackberry trees
raise leafless arms,
to an invisible foe.
Somewhere a duck without a body
quacks to itself a lone note
that stirs no interest.
Mornings like this,
Goose Lake avoids company.
Her pulse slows.
Little moves or mutters.