Knee-deep in the Dragon, I lean in

to feel the wilderness.

The brisk call of morning splashes

against ash and gum. Sassy,

this liquid sun pursuing a cypress,

its roots lifted from the swamp

like stubby knees. Stooping, with the bowl

of my hands, I draw from the depths

muddied snails, clams, a leech snaking

palustrine waters and squirming as I fish.

Careful not to tear pickerel weeds

or cattails, I let pliant grasses braid

the pristine path, nibble my manmade boots,

gurgling through this sibilant stream,

swishing like a reptile. The windless

air sliced, I search loblollies,

spy a bald eagle lifting off. Chiseled bones

float by. Opiate: the thrall. I teeter,

fall. Against my jaw a damselfly’s flutter.

Like a stunned doe, I flail. The taste

of sediment numbs my senses. I breathe in

these wetlands like a wild iris.

Carolyn Kreiter-Foronda
Virginia Poet Laureate

                             News