Around The Pond Poem by Bill Galvin
Around The Pond
Does this feel good or what?
Good to be back in these Acadian hills,
Touching these granite rocks once again…
Immutable, immovable, forever, and silent.
I am between the mountains after-season,
And I have these trails to myself today,
Except for the red squirrels squawking,
As I pass through their territories
And interrupt their winter packing.
Clump, clomp… five long quick steps
To every inhale and deep mouth exhale,
Which paces me upon this four mile trek…
And the cadence belongs to my meditation.
Does this feel good or what?
I pass over tiny streamlets funding this pond,
Making their presence felt with their trickling sound,
Like a leaky faucet dripping, dripping, dripping.
A calm gray overcast day brightened by a walk
Through woods, water, and time.
The memory of smells…
The smells of these waters, this forest, the lichen,
The hills themselves formed by glaciers
Thirteen thousand years ago…
You can smell ancient natural unchangedness…
You can sense the walkers centuries before us.
I am captivated by the silence in a cove…
I stop and peruse; and in a quiet moment,
I say a silent prayer for the missing,
And a humble thanksgiving for the living.
Cloud bottoms are now reaching mountain tops,
As the dusk moves in quickly.
My longest and deepest embrace
With my faithful, devoted, Natural female lover,
In many a long and dark and cold winter;
It warms me like the soft touch of a woman’s hand;
So long forlorn, so long foregone;
So close, so present, so clear, so dear.
11-12-2015 (Bar Harbor, Maine)
I like the way you notice Nature's layered brew of scents... her shifts of light and shade... as you yield to the sense of being nurtured and unfolded. It's interesting that you use breaths to mark the rhythm of steps. I do that in my poem ON A HILL ABOVE YUCHI TOWNSHIP. In my case, my outbreaths coincided with every other step of my left foot, because the hill was pretty steep.
bill, just reread this poem. a few things: i like tiny streamlets funding this pond- a simple, unusual, and descriptive verb choice. years ago enjoying a leisurely several-month break after graduating college, i used to circle a pond in prospect park in brooklyn, new york. i was drawn to it, and for a reason i could not explain it made me think of jesus and his galilee. the gratitude for a special time in nature comes through in your poem. for a similar feel, you might enjoy my poems snail mornings and after all-day hike. peace. glen kappy
Thank you, Glen... Prospect Park, Brooklyn, has a small place in my memory, too. And thanks for the appreciation. I will check out your work. Peace.
The memory of smells… The smells of these waters, this forest, the lichen, The hills themselves formed by glaciers Thirteen thousand years ago… You can smell ancient natural unchangedness… You can sense the walkers centuries before us. Beautiful work. Nicely written poem. Thanks for sharing the poem.10 for it.
A beautiful, captivating poem. The reader feels as though he/she has been there because the poem remembers a past which everyone harbors deep inside the coves of one's heart. (10)
You capture a deep sense of appreciation and healing......Beautiful read!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:21:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Bill, a wonderful poem! I love being in the hills as you described here. It was easy to picture myself in your place. You have brought back fond memories of similar times and places. Thanks, and congrats on poem of the day!