Kettles Calling

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made


Dug deep down in time,
against a perfect wintry sky; 
layers of life are forever laced
among my cattail reeds.

It’s there that strong beams
of sun pool despite stagnant
times, truths and tales;
as stretched years unfold.

Chick-a-dees crowd in winter,
spring peepers chime with thaw,
Sandhill crane saunters in summer,
brittle leaves gather in autumn.

Above in towering pines I
catch a glimpse of tail feather;
a sudden movement swoops,
opens wings and dives for dinner.

But as winter settles snowy tuffs,
the muskrat beckons from his
kettled home; among the broken reeds
rooted deep in folds of time.

P. Wolf

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