In The Salt Marsh

By John I. Blair

Across the placid pond surface
Pelicans drift silently
Like awkward swans.
Overhead a hawk swoops.
I hear squawks and clucks
From coots and ducks.
A bird darts past, an insect buzzes,
A fish jumps. Only stirred
By tides and sea breeze,
For years it stays the same.

But when I scan the rampant reeds
I cannot penetrate the mass;
The fertile bottom mud’s a mystery;
The tall and arching grass
Hides roosts and nests;
On all sides, though, I know
That every briny part is pulsing
With being, ending, and beginning.
This is life’s great starting place,
The primal soup from whence we came.

©2003 John I. Blair