Long After the Bog

Walking around the parkway,
cut through the wooded place
long after this land was a lake,
long after the bog
the peat, the sphagnum moss,
long gone the pitcher plants
grasses and the forest growing,
still the little remnants
the edge of a little bit of water,
cat tails, opening in the fall sun
their tails puffed as if ready for an attacker,
the grasses, the oaks, turning
to their winter colors
the birches, the maples,
still small, huddled,
almost ready for cold
High above, the causeway,
splitting the two halves
the land changed by man
a hint of what it had been only

October 12, 2008