I’ll share a poem I wrote. I call it “Snow White Sentinels”.
They stand at every bend in the river,
snow white egrets, solemn and stoic,
next to blue flowers on gravel bars.
Down the waterway they hold their place
in a mystery of silent communion,
with the dignity of soldiers guarding
their sacred post: the rite of Spring,
the stirring of larvae in their struggle,
life beginning, the miracle commencing,
the sacred rising from mud.
The balm of nature, water flows past,
carrying seeds of life finding joy,
the cause of nature, genesis ascending.
All life is precious, all connected,
all seeking the spasm of procreation.
Throughout nature mothers sing,
giving life and nurturing existence.
As long as the white birds come
the seed will be safe,
protected by white sentinels.
Dragonflies hover over the scene,
catching the sunlight in an ecstasy of being,
carrying these words of truth: I am alive.
This poem has been lurking around in my notebooks in different drawers where I live. It has undergone many revisions, and it might undergo more. I hope you like it.