Watershed worries cry out from the lichen, lilies, shores, and the snow,
our communities, sun rays, stratosphere, the soils below.
What about the tides, dragonflies, coasts, the bald eagle’s crown,
the rising temperatures, later migrations, the protected goose’s down.
I see Watershed paintings parading splendor on canvas,
but analyzing her patterns would be a more connecting compass.
Soon there will be no more deer prints, hawk feathers, nor honks of drakes.
We already hear less whispers from white bark pines, less hisses from our water snakes.
Let us toil together to save our waters, ourselves, our wildlife;
for our nations and nature are balanced but on the edge of a knife.
—
Joyceann Wall holds a Master’s in Library Science and a Bachelor’s in English from Kent State University, in Kent, Ohio. Joyceann has been writing poetry since she was thirteen, as a coping mechanism to help deal with adversities in life. She has worked various jobs throughout the years but never lost her love for words and stories.
