The Wetlands Park
In the dark stillness comes a chirp, a trill And in the background always the low rumble and growl of the city The sky gently lightens to misty aqua over glowing gold The trees are black lace shadows Birds and crickets coax the dawn The heavens lazily bloom with teal, mauve and palest peach And trees and brush emerge from black to shades of green
Now the sun is lighting the treetops All it touches glows with radiance The goldenrod blazes A chickadee poses on a yaupon tree among red berries begging for a snapshot Every brown twig The hawk perching high on a barren tree A lone white blossom with its golden heart Each clump of cattails The Chinese tallow with red, green, and orange leaves Each calling for its portrait ("I'm ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille")
What if I walked through my life as I've walked through this park? Would I learn that sometimes it just takes waiting for the night to pass and for the golden hour to transfigure everything? If I passed through the world slowly with my eyes open what hidden beauty would I see in the mess and wreckage of everyday mortals? What shy wonders will I be privileged to behold if I am patient and attentive and kind? The quiet caterpillar only needs a closer look to reveal its magic And once someone has blazed with glory can they ever return to being just another weed?
A rabbit freezes, silhouetted dark on the pale, dewy grass -- no, two! We watch each other for a while Then one takes another mouthful of weeds and chews thoughtfully Ducks slap their way to flight a brief soar then splashdown in the bayou An egret tiptoes gingerly through the shallows On my way back, a deer stops and stares She bounds back into the brush with a splash And she and her companions show their snowy tails in retreat
A puddle in the weeds glows blue with reflected sky Even brambles and thorns are transfigured into works of art in this magical light Every tree is a statuesque beauty queen A fuzzy caterpillar is breathtaking A dewdrop shimmers crystal on a blade of grass Against the brilliant blue of the sky no tuft of reed is without splendor Lingering and looking, I spy a gulf fritillary sunning in a cypress And a monarch among the weeds There floats another across my path
by Celeste Boudreaux, November 2018
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