Bank Beaver

Long in the tooth, hard to get along with –
get out of the house.
“Pore ole fella.”
Your farewell to desire for desire

diminishes over shallow lilied water
into the forest, feet wet on the shore.
Who knew you would have all the world you wanted?
This time of last things you’ve been ready for

since you began, so many years ago,
is merely one layer, one stain of age
on the venerable monument of your life,
orange lichen on rock, the scour of ice,

the bay brim-full with your imagination,
what the wind scribbled on you, trails of rain,
how lucky you felt to see the water snake
swim close, how it knew how to disappear.

From Spirit Engine