Summer sun bright has dried these
wetlands-cracked and hardened
so no creature can swim in
waters that were laid out across
the wavy glass, watched by
growing bushes and trees still
dwarves from fires of years ago.

Here I am as part of this summer
scene, walking in longing silence with
only the sound of wind that takes
my face in its fluttering hand as
I walk the path past the waters
where the swans used to be and
I hope for their return in months
when the weather cools and the
waters of the wetland return again.

This is the way, and this is the cycle
out here apart, shifting from human order
to nature’s flow, to seasons that shape
this natural world of animals, plants,
and the waters that rise and dry as the
sun goes high and then changes to low,
and the clouds form and there is darkness.

6/2/2025