an open hillside
Completion
Complete and yet never ending
Nature ceases to stand still for long
Time enough
A brief repose
She catches her breath and prepares to take wing again
A fleeting reflection of the bountiful rewards
And we turn into a new hour, a new day, a new season, a new life
Stillness provides a chance of finality
A temporary repose before an inevitable reprise
I stand atop the East Pond, the frog pond,
From where our Boreal Chorus Frogs will sing each spring
For only a short time
Then turning silent before the summer people swarm
Oblivious to their existence
Now under nothing but white
So much white
Beneath the feet of snow and layers of frozen mud
They rest
Awaiting warmth
Awaiting life
A silent womb
Promising secrets in quiet whispers
We yearn to learn to understand
Protected beneath my snowshoed steps
Complete without my interference
Despite my interference
Complete
tracks in the lowering sun