Second Wave Refuge

Reinforce strengthen
the fragility of life
Beware the Reaper

Second Wave Refuge
Naked spreading oak trees and white river birches
Stretch out long shadows on the silent landscape
Reach far into the muted still water of the river
Like floating dark logs on the gray sheen surface
The snake river meandering calmly down
Whispering bubbles of softly disturbed water
Into the meadow echoing a sweet melody
As the debris gently quietly hugs the cold water
Under the velvety beam of the beaver full moon
Yet sorrowful song seems to hover in the frosty air
As the beavers prepare for the cold of December
In this the last full moon before the winter solstice
Again the chill of the mourning moon casts an
Eerie shadow of another wave of uncertainty
A water habitat not impervious to the world around
Hidden along a trail a seemingly clawed in aquatic
Lodges and underwater passages haven of comfort
Security and togetherness sharing and family building
A loving world all their own built kept and protected
Only the soft splashes of water the nocturnal
Beavers made building their dams and shelters
As always orchestrating euphonies like maestros
Conducting a movement of a sonnet rhapsody
Petrarch Bard of Avon Spenser would be in awe
Naked foreboding oak trees and white river birches
Shadows spread long on the smooth water surface
The beavers in refuge lodges anchored lit by the moon
As the river flows straight to the waiting dark estuary
Photo: P Bruegel the Elder, “The Triumph of Death”

Beaver scene along the Snake River boat ride on a trip to the Grand Tetons.

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