The Morass

There was a photographer –
I read about him –
who went to the wetlands
to photograph a bird,
a red winged blackbird
early enough in the morning
to catch the bird’s breath

And of course this is where
he came – the edge of the
world, land foundering in
the notion of ownership
as if anything wild
can actually be owned

But it is here deep
in the woods
on the banks of
rivers great or not
in the grasslands and
in the mirk
these squawkers of
the sky migrate in
numbers that throw
a blanket upwards
in the spring and the
fall – a good time
to see them breathe

out here, on the edge
in this bog
this fen
this quagmire
this marsh
this wetland
this muskeg

this swamp

Just like the
breath of a blackbird
Mother Nature will rise
she will rise
she will rise
she will rise

2-17-2025