Ripples

On a sunny day
I sit beside the water,
dreaming,
watching the ripples and reflections,
mesmerized by the shapes and colors
in the ever-changing display
fed by the trees
on the bank above me;
each frame of the video
I imagine taking
A glorious work of abstract art,
Filled with texture and color,
Light and dark,
Passion and remorse...


Opening my ears as I’ve opened my eyes,
I realize that further down the beach
two geese are training their young ones to swim,
barking commands like a high school coach,
watching,
ever-vigilant,
to be certain this dozing human
doesn’t wake up;
doesn’t rise and thread her way across the marsh
to interfere with the day’s lesson.

They have no way of knowing:
I, too, once mothered a gosling,
taught him to swim,
felt my heart soften at the sight of his wet feathers;
hovered,
ever-vigilant,
to keep marauding eagles from snatching him away.

I, too, have heard that distinctive “Mama” peep
that says – Where are you, Mama?
I’m frightened,
or I’m hungry,
or watch this really cool dive!

And now I wonder,
who is it
that hears my own distinctive cry for attention
and leaves her heart upon the beach
for me to find and know
she, too, is ever-vigilant,
always present,
always guiding,
always listening.