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David Reuter

Vibrations on a Man-made Pond

It wasn’t instinct leading them to lie

where steel and strife sliced ragged paths

and made this sunken space.

Their beady eyes scanned structures for

the shelter where they’d drop

their webbed feet underneath

the shimmering surface where they’d rest.


Somebody took this ancient place

and drove it from primeval heights

into this present concrete grave.

They carved this virgin, wild land,

eradicating every crag

where feral life had sprung about.

The sturdy earth shook deep in ways

that tremors don’t begin to try.


They flip and toss their feathered crests

like they’re atop a lake and not

a paltry pool they placed among

created structures, sharp and steep.

Sometimes, the motions that they make

can almost reach the hidden places

lost among the remnants left behind.

Jim Zola 675DC4F9-2C15-4B6C-B6DA-57E28D416349.jpeg
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