down a long flight of stone stairs,
I walk to a bridge, look for the new
arrivals, beavers, but they are off
playing hide and seek or gnawing
on trees. Thick with brown branches,
the long, sturdy woven basket
of their dam strings around a pond
they’ve created.
Tinkling like bells, rivulets stream
around the dam’s edge. The water level
has risen, starts to seep between boardwalk
slats, caressing my feet.
It’s been two hundred years since
beavers lived here. They are welcome
creators of habitat for fish, turtles and
frogs, breathing new life onto this sunken
earthen floor. Some visitors on the bridge
shake their heads in dismay at the change.
What are they missing? I smile at the new
creation, its promise of hope and
transformation rippling through me like
a song.
This poem first appeared in Embracing Wetlands.
—
Anne Randolph lives in Yellow Springs, Ohio, where she tends a wildflower meadow and a wild backyard. Daily she enjoys nature’s gifts, which inspire her poetry. A dedicated conservationist, she has served on boards of several land preservation non-profits. Her poetry has appeared in Cloudbank, Snowy Egret, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Mock Turtle Zine, and The Listening Eye. Her poetry collection, This is What Life Does, was published by Kelsay Books in 2022.
