there’s a new pond born
between the dock and the road.
As I step out from the trees two mallards
take flight from its wrinkled face, wing to the river
beyond, swollen in its bed and slapping at the dock’s far reach.
I halt at the lip of this new-made pool and ponder
how life brims just like the river, overflows
the banks you think contain it so surely,
and I wonder if today
is the day to try out new waters.
© by Wendy Ingersoll.
Used with the author’s permission.