water’s edge

”He builds his water-world

And lives in splintered

Trees with bark unfurled.”

from the poem, ‘Castor Canadensis’

from the chapbook, ‘Earth Gospel’ 2019 by Tamara Miles

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Let’s you and I walk a water’s edge and

talk of gnawed tree trunks pointing at the sky

of tree corpses pulled through nettles and vines

of water wedged wicket walls to slow the flow

of flooded meadows, glens and hollows

of miles of new marsh

of ducks, of geese, of spindly-legged herons

of eagles, of hawks and fisher kings

of otters, of fox, of ghostly possums

of raccoons and bob cats stalking the edge

of owls hooting in the night

of submerged blinds you cannot hunt

of bottom ground you cannot plow

of red dot gun sights, of traps, of dynamited dams

of fertile fields to plant

of harvested grain no one buys

of vistas clean and wide to hunt the hunted

of pelts that no one wants

of glassy-eyed fur collars old women used to wear in church

of stove pipe Lincoln hats sitting in museums

of speeches written by speech givers and

…..stored in hat bands

of times that were and times that weren’t

of times to come and times that won’t

11-27-19

*title by wife