I walk in the field’s high grass and hear
the crickets whispering in their prayer.
I walk to the edge of a pond
scattering tadpoles into the silt
and sending a turtle into the deep.
It’s that hour of the day,
going on six,
when the slant of sun is bearable
and a cool breeze carries away
the last of the heat.
I have come for a last time
to stand here in silence,
to show the pond
I have learned something.
I am going back to the city
a quieter man.

This poem first appeared in Magnapoets (Issue #6,  2010).
Used here with the author’s permission.