When I was a young child and a teenager, on weekends at the Forks of the Credit, the second pond was a favourite destination for an afternoon walk. The old railway is now part of the Bruce Trail. The pond, unfortunately, is almost grown in—the result of ecological succession. I was disappointed when I found out last year that the salamanders are no longer breeding there.
The memory of those times prompted me to write this poem.
The Pond
Along the old railway, Now a green forest trail, Quietly I walk, now That the sun warms the earth, Looking for spring flowers And arriving song birds. Water runs off the bank And soaks the path there Where I must watch my feet And detour over the roots Of encroaching cedars. Quite hidden is the pond Where the hills form a cup And the rocks create a seat Where I can rest a bit. This place is magical, Where the secret water Shelters salamanders And their clusters of eggs, Where red efts roam the verge And blackbirds the rushes, Where liverworts spread green And ferns unfurl in fronds. Here I sit, watching all That reveals itself when The sun warms the silence. Finally, fulfilled as Nature’s life unfurls in New growth before my eyes, I lightly lift myself Up on the ancient rock, Stretch my limbs and feel, Vibrantly, a newness Soaking inside me With an old, old wisdom Of connectivity.
Published in Antao-Xavier, Cheryl, Nina Munteanu & Merridy Cox Bradley. 2015. The Literary Connection, Volume II: My Canada. An IOWI Anthology. In Our Words Inc.
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