Beaver Pond - A River of Stones

In the middle of summer, there are still scraps of snow along the trail. The morning air is chilly at high altitude. I walk a path I know well past linked ponds formed by beaver lodges. Sometimes in the early morning or at dusk, if I'm silent when approaching, I observe dark shadows moving silently over the surface of the frigid water. Sensing any danger causes a sharp warning slap of the tail. Diving and disappearing, only ripples remain as proof of the beavers' presence.

chilly mountain pond

willow bushes dressed in fur

shiver in the shade

huddled in my coat

I watch for shadow swimmers

in morning stillness

I am participating in A River of Stones