Pond

I might like to be a pond someday In a Cascade mountain green forest and thick. Sparrows, swallows, chirpers of all kinds Glide in at dawn to drink and chat. Trout with bass take afternoon naps-- No hooks to fear if fear they could. Skitter bugs nimble skipping on me, and Frogs get noisy at night. A pond not round, but funny shaped. Trees fall over into the shallow of my shores. A lazy one-inch ripple now and then Kisses my muddy lips. Mostly sunk logs drift from here to there. When hikers find me, they will breathe in Deep the damp dripping with air.