By Tess Barry

Out of her twig-filled lungs a strong wind whirls

she is a small stream     obstructed

a standing body

water-filled

in spring she floods parched uplands

in winter bristles over

she is walkable and swimmable

apple-tree wood roots inside her teeming throat

her calves and feet are pliable

as leisure

her fingers alburnum

white-paved stones encircle her

and mark the solitary home

of one lone Loon who laughs loud

at her watered-down jokes

she is time gestated in the song of whip-poor-will,

a seventeen-year Concord locust hatched of ribbed solitude

the serenade of fox, the swoop

of owl, a clear deep well of April green

the rising steam in January thaw

neither inlet or outlet

some think her bottomless

or speculate man-made

some say brought forth by rod

she contains herself in color

appears altered at a distance

sometimes her blue reflection rises

in the form of firm-fleshed fish

they swim her depths

which are transparent

“My Mother As Walden Pond” was a finalist for the 2014 Aesthetica Poetry Prize and previously published in Aesthetica: The Art and Culture Magazine’s 2014 Creative Writing Annual, UK.

Artwork by Jackie Benney. Published with permission of the artist.