Spring morning
If you would know the pond today, come early.
Hasten with deliberate slowness,
hurry, linger, before the now becomes the when.
…
Clouds shift, light evolves, each moment more, each moment less.
Faint and ancient epoch now is winter,
that held the world in its unyielding grasp.
…
Breathe and all is new, unfurled, colored, textured, gone.
Nature writes her poem anew each morning,
and erases it at night.
…
Canoe glides a path and with it pens a verse,
Plucking twang of bullfrog chords,
Grackle’s iridescence hidden in silhouette against the sky,
Old men turtles in a line plop away, and I must go.
…
Headed home, flowers dust the shore with white.
Each tiny cluster speaks the pace of spring.
Round pink buds of promise
turn to stars of white perfection,
then fade to fuzzy frazzle.
…
If you would know the pond tomorrow, come early.
Laurie Apgar Chandler 
Hi, Laurie! This is beautiful! If I were an artist, I could paint the picture! Thank you!
Villi
LikeLiked by 1 person
What kind words, thank you! We’ll talk soon. We were gone all day today celebrating my mother’s birthday.
LikeLike
What a beautiful poem! I was on a pond near Jackman this morning at 5:30. It was so.o.o peaceful! With Love, Mary
Sent from my iPad
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is nothing like the peace of the still, calm morning. Glad you liked the poem!
LikeLike
Thank you Laurie. I feel blessed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahhhh, thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful!
LikeLike