Marsh Song

Ancient mother, old crone of the woods,
Awakens from her winter slumber
To slough the gray pallor
And return to her mossy green back
Her agate eyed stare watches
Over her ink dotted children
Black comma’ed offspring
Creatures of water and air
Little gods of change
Neither fish nor fowl
Born to one elemental force
Alive in the gullied water
To then find legs within to fly
To the essential element
Air lunged and full in the oxygen
Sky blue green and tree filled
World of moss and mud
And spring marsh song

*** Bob cleaned out our little pond and waterfalls on Sunday and must have disturbed this old gal. She sat in the swift waters of the falls and washed her face then found a nice little cave to sun and nap in. We have strands and strands of frog eggs draping our pond, soon tadpoles and then in early summer the tiniest of tiny frogs will emerge – the course of our seasons!