What makes up a lake if we open it up and look close? Little by little the sound of bubbles like lungs of water pressing against the surface, air pockets ruffled by soft green branches doused in drips of sunlight, pressed firm by the weight of the water, ancient and new, melted over from glacial divides, rolled into like pats of creamy butter, smoothed over through the shells of tortoises, also old and quiet, under here, cozy, ready for bed, ready for night. What survives under here in the green wet but forests of algal bloom, daunting in its resilience to death, a song to overcome like a shrill songbird in morning, tiny trees that crumble with touch, meek in constitution but powerful in breadth, stoic to grow in sun and dark, a takeover of the metal tinged rock bottom silt sifted by crabs and crawdads for shelter and sustenance. To look closely is to see tiny worlds within tiny worlds somehow codependent with the outside world, too, like a twisted story of unknown captivity, to not know that we are held captive by the sky. To see the forest is to feel small yet feel a part of something pure, wholeheartedly and independent of anything else, so that to look closer we see the forest and the pond floor lap into one green chasm of cattails and scum soon to be roots upheaved and thrown to the rocks, to the herons.
#naturepoetry #lookcloser #poems #damnnatureyoupretty #ivemissedyou