So near the fence line,
Edge of woods, like shrine;
There was an acre pond,
Compelling, mysterious, profound…
Climb up along incline-
Of dirt and rocks’ chine;
Through bushes or skies,
Reeding with cries.
There, I see the pond,
With few stones around;
And some grass;
And leaves and twigs with class,
Have docked in the pass…
A gray old pond, no ducks or fish,
some guardian maple trees wish,
Standing tall, bent, gnarled, not on leash!
On lingering, looking deep,
Little acre pond, unspoiled for keep.
Compelling, mysterious, THE PEEP!! …