Long Pond

gray November afternoon
stalking the woods
above Long Pond

dry leaves and
twigs snapping underfoot
a gentle lope

down the slope
to the water
line as a

sudden rush of
wind turbined through
opened wings soaring

at treetop on
approach to a
soft landing on

a jade surface
a congress of
gaggle chatter and splashing

before settling down
to serene elegance
drifting idly in

circles of bliss
passing one another
each in his

place aware of
his presence in
a moment suspended

in silence not
to be again

David Sermersheim