Another Pond

It sits naturally in the
low land of these rolling
hills, surrounded by acres
of corn, beans and oats -
the pond is quiet
except when the frogs begin
their call and answer serenade
around dusk, after the 
dragonflies have buzzed
out for the day, and swallows
still perform maneuvers,
swooping at speedy angles
to intercept the flying bugs
in open space; cat tails
and crack willows make it
their home, as do I
when the mirror-like surface
pleads to reveal a deeper
truth than the grasses
will tell; staring into its
spring-fed depth, I see
the heavens above and their
submerged secrets eager
to speak a hidden story.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Written for dVerse Poets Pub ~ Water, Water Everywhere