The Marsh

In the knife-edged saw grass a fawn high-steps behind his mother's tail With an eerie whoop, a rusty- winged chicken warns them away from his purloined roost Renegade rooster on the lamb, flapping his wings until feathers fly like snowflakes - he caroms from branch to bush His chicken brain unaware that deer do not climb trees When the curious doe stands up to sniff the errant rooster, madness erupts Flitting down to peck the doe, the rooster becomes a flurry of frenzy Weary of this turbulent fowl, the doe ambles away, fawn right behind Lichen clings to a fallen log making a nursery for mushrooms and surly frogs Dark copper half-light speckles the dense wet cushion of marshy forest Wild nasturtiums are a lush bed of color Echoes demand answer that never come Though the slender reeds take in deep breaths, they cannot exhale Beauty unencumbered flourishes across the stile that no one crosses anymore