What’s Under the Surface

(Anthology Selection, Canadian Authors Association Niagara Branch, Annual Poetry Competition. 2017)

This can be my bench:
overlooking the rippling river
the marina beyond
where empty white masts point 
to the summer sky.

Today I can be filled
by this breeze
by these birds chorusing 
by these grandparents wheeling
strollers on the path in front of my bench.

I can stretch out as
geese slip quietly into the river
dip their bills in shallow scoops along the surface
then point them to the summer sky
their necks stretched out
letting the water slide gently down.
	
The plan for today
was much more productive
than this bench 
under the outstretched branches of a red pine 
with its green-black upturned needles
and dots of tawny cones.

Yet as I remain still
what's under the surface
reveals itself quietly
like the gulping bullfrog who announces his presence
when the noisy strollers have passed.

What's under the surface

anchors me and nourishes
like the rich mud of the riverbank
feeds a waxy yellow flower that opens to 
the summer sky.