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
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