A third instalment of a poem a day sample from the Eco-Jest-Us readers.
Today: Carol A. Stephen. Carol is a Carleton Place poet, member of the League of Canadian Poets and Canadian Authors Association (the other CAA).
Carol has read at Sasquatch, Dusty Owl and Bywords, BQJ, LCP National Poetry Month blog, CAA’s Byline and TOPS Verse Afire. Contest Honourable Mentions for: Invisible, published in Arborealis anthology, 2008, Ontario Poetry Society. Tea Leaves, CAA 2008 NCWC. Traffic on Highway 7 was Finalist in 2011 CAA NCWC.
Alligators—No Swimming
You could call it swamp,
you could call it “Wetlands”—
that small stand of trees
bulrushes and water.
A sign said, “ Alligators—No Swimming”.
It was an inside joke.
Winters someone would clear
a hockey rink for kids,
white plastic lawn chairs
strategically placed for lookers-on.
It was a landmark for out-of-towners,
You could tell them
“Turn right when you pass the swamp.”
Summer mornings you could see
mist rise around tall marsh grass.
You might see mallards there for a swim
or Great Blue Herons tripoding to cool their feet.
You’d watch for those alligators,
you’d smile.
Then the big box drugstore came,
all bright lights and late nights,
and half the wetlands were gone.
Still, the alligator sign remained your signpost.
This small oasis for birds and beasts
was an autumn feast of reds,
yellows, oranges against a dark blue sky
till they ‘dozed the other side,
made room for a new sign.
Lanark Marsh. It was a lie.
Left only a memory of a wetland.
Someone put up another sign
still warning about the alligators.
They should have warned about the bulldozers.
Rain still collects in the swampy hammock
You can see it if you look—
they haven’t killed it yet
but the herons have gone south.
(Version of February 1, 2011)
Watch for another poem for her upcoming at the League of Canadian Poets Blog for Poetry Month.