CONNERY POND

     Dirt
     Trying to get over my latest bout with stress disease
     I take the long way home one day winding down
     Along a stretch of scenic river and high peaks.

     I pull in and stop where dry forest
     Spruce swamp and a string of pretty lakes
     Fill a shallow depression in bedrock.

     The woods road after a winter of snow gives with each step
     And the thick brush stumps and downed trees
     Make an impenetrable clutter on both sides.

     A rushing stream that crosses rough terrain
     And rocks with foam and spray fills at its source
     From the quiet overflowing of an expanse of sky and water.

     Over the smooth center a mountain is creased with white.
     Along the marshy edges mated pairs of ducks feed and nest.
     The drake zooms overhead in a noisy display.

     The week she's away I come back by a worn trail
     With bare soil and exposed roots to rest each day
     And look for a cure in the dense growth and open space.

     Snow Sun and Rain
     In a jungle of humps and deep holes roots
     With enough water spread out for air.
     Trees grow in green wreaths of grass and fern.
     Needles and leaves make spongy places between
     The great knots of wood rock and fallen logs.
     Fungus and lichen cover the branches
     With flakes of loose pastel in soft layers.
     Stopping to look at a flat spot by turbulent water
     Whirlpools and eddies suddenly a white curtain falls.
     Crystals of ice ping and bounce off the high spots
     And melt in drops that tingle on my face and hands.

     Resting alone a yellow birch leans over
     The water's edge and reflects a moment of time.
     Under an unbroken sheet of advancing currents
     Warm light and cool shadows flicker and shine.
     From surface swirls and ripples dark circles and lines
     Shimmer and play in changing patterns on the sandy bottom.
     A black log under water is buried in dirt and pebbles
     And the steady flow makes hollows and buildups around it.
     Following the path of least resistance currents spread out
     In broad shallows undercut the bank or form deep channels.
     I keep writing so I'll be there when something like this happens.

     I lean my back against a solid trunk and slide
     Completely down the rough bark until I'm seated.
     A breeze fans my face and rustles the treetops.
     Leaves blow off float down twirl slow up turn
     And move out into the main stream at high speed.
     Something approaches in waves pattering in the upper story
     Dry leaves twitch and petals glisten and shake.
     Dropping on water the physical character varies with volume
     Wind direction and velocity at the point of impact.
     Afterwards air bubbles float for a while and the energy
     Ripples out in concentric rings until it dissipates.

     Apples
     She's been back a week dividing up
     The iris and lily tubers for planting
     Where they have more room to grow. Stacked in neat piles
     Against the wall next year's wood is split and drying.

     I leave the shed doors open most days
     And let in the warm sun after a long winter.
     Marigolds are out in the sunny spot by the brook.
     Bloodroot and trillium grow together again under the apples.

     Lake Placid 5/11/94