Finch Creek

Grass River Natural Area, Michigan
By Steven Wade Veatch
 
Calm currents glide over a sandy bottom creek bed.
Layered, like the strata of the earth, with sand silt, 

and windblown dust—pulverized
from ancient grinding glaciers.
 
Stretches of the creek flow through a latticework
of fallen trees. Plants grow so lush they rival a rainforest.
Moisture nurtures spongy mounds of moss
that cover the ground like carpet.
Lichens paint the trees while a breeze moves their branches.
Songbirds flit in the shadows. Melodic chirps
proclaim their presence.
 
A sanctuary, yet everything changes—
day, night, seasons,
the climate,
you, and

me.

Finch Creek, Grass River Natural Area.
Photo date May, 2022 by S. W. Veatch.

The Last Frog of Summer

By Steven Wade Veatch

I. Wind

By the pond, I listened to the tumult of the wind 
and tried to distinguish each sound that swirled 
through the spruce and tamarack trees. 
It sounded like twisted whispers through a hollowed-out log. 
Breezes made the branches lash and tremble. 
The animated leaves fluttered and danced in the wind. 
The air charged with the fresh scent of ozone after a rain—
nature’s purifying incense. The drag of the wind 
made slight waves over the open pond.

II. Pond

The pond is an expression of the intersection 
of the water table and the landscape. Slabs of sandstone
border the pond. One slab reveals where ancient waves 
once pounded the beach with conviction—leaving ripple marks 
in the sand, now lithified. Green leafy blades of wild iris reach skyward 
while tips of emerald stalks are covered with crowns of purple blossoms.
Little white flowers rise like periscopes.  Cushy, green mounds of moss 
and wetland plants soak up the land’s stress. 
They filter and purify the water and fill the wells. 
Here is the heart of an active ecosystem that provides 
a certain wisdom as the circle of life plays out.

III. Frog

A Northern Green Frog settles in on a wet rock 
and lingers after a light rain has ended.  
An oakleaf fell to the ground near the frog, 
and on the leaf’s surface beads of rainwater 
scatter sunlight like an opal. 

IV. Brevity

Although the transitory nature of the water adds 
Life in the elemental, living in the elemental, 
to the mystique of the moment, I am moved 
from my comfort zone by the bitter winds of my own brief time
as I hand over another day—moving closer to the end, 
just like the water beads as they give up another molecule 
with each passing moment, until they slowly evaporate 
into oblivion. What is there after that moment comes? 
Will it be as quiet as the steep silence of the moon, 
or will it be darkness as unrevealing as the night?

AND IT WAS SO

Tell us, old woman, was it so 
when we could talk freely
in the sunshine, and each one
respected the other?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when we could walk
down a street and be safe
from gunfire?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when people read books
instead of playing with phones
and looking at Facebook and Instagram?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when people respected the flag
and stood for the national anthem
and removed their caps?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when Congress worked together
and the parties respected each other
and the constitution?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when children were safe at school
and did not fear the violence
from random bad actors?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
that people honored the Constitution,
supported the law,
and voted their conscience?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so
when people breathed fresh air
drank clean water, and
enjoyed temperate days?
            Yes my child, it was so.
 
Tell us old woman, was it so,
that extinctions occurred it the past
and we are near a tipping point
for a new extinction event?
            Yes my child, it is so.
 
Tell us old woman, will it be so
that we will want to spend time with friends,
respect people, and be ruled by love
and decency?
            Yes my child, it depends on
            what you do today.
 
Tell us old woman, will it be so
that better days will come
when wars are gone and
peace prevails?
            Yes my child, it depends on
            what you do today.
            And it was so.

--By Steven Wade Veatch and Christine Doolittle