Wetland Moment

Last evening
I walked past the lighted building
where we would meet for dinner,
and drawn by the chorus of frogs,
continued to the bridge.
In the growing dusk,
faint, scattered, white clouds floated
on the surface of the vernal pool.
For a moment the voices continued.
Then, as if responding to an unseen conductor,
the music began to stop,
each section ending
its part in the round.
From east to west
the pond became silent.

Susanne Twight-Alexander
2-29-08