Saturday, July 9, 2011

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

9 comments:

  1. beautiful. i love pussy willows and your poem is lovely.

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  2. You have captured your early morning walk beautifully Barb, - one has to be quick and quiet to catch a glimpse of many of the pond's inhabitants.

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  3. Love walking with you ... poem is lovely!

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  4. Something I'm never likely to see - which you bring to life for me.

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  5. That is beautiful. I was transported into that world for a moment. Thank you. :-)

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  6. I have never seen beavers, either. Lodges, yes, but not the real thing.

    Shadow swimmers - I love that!

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  7. "...shadow swimmers" - how beautiful. I enjoy your photos and sweet poems very much!

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  8. Can just hear the slapping of the tails. Love the metaphor.

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  9. What wonderful word choices!

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Your comments are always one good thing for me!