Notes About The Poem
Written 24th September, 2026 submitted to THE UNSEEN Poetry Contest sponsored by Sotto Poet
Room at the Water’s Edge
What remains:
a quieter, gentler world—
no busy highways,
no heavy freight trains,
no factories casting fumes into the air,
no steel birds cutting through the sky.
Water speaks, bubbling in the creek.
Birdsong echoes through the hills.
What returns:
first, what had waited at the edges—
seedlings held in the dark,
moss covering the abandoned tank.
The earth remembers every crack
where it was made to wait.
What enters:
small animals
once shunned—
snakes and lizards
warming in the sun;
birds nesting safely
in eaves and sheds.
Slowly, tracks gather
around the empty sheds.
What loses its name:
feral—
the word loosening
from hoof and paw,
from hands that know
to leave the gates open.
What is returned:
water to the low ground,
shade returning to the riverbanks,
hands lifting wire from the reeds,
room for the creek
to rise and fall as it must.
What gathers:
frogs in small ponds,
dragonflies above the shallows,
small fish flashing
through the reeds.
What remains:
space at the water’s edge
as day gives way—
each life making room
for another.
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