The Puddle

Posted byMauraPosted inPoetry

In a rut in the dirt road:
a vernal pool. A few small,
almost transparent water striders
twitch the surface, and below them,
tadpoles wriggle and float
in the limpid water,
hundreds of them—all
straining cell by cell to be
among the living,
the fat, full-throated racket
and splurge of spring
up and down the creek.

First published in The Phare, November–December 2020

Published by Maura

I was born in Wales and lived there much of my early life, before immigrating to the United States. I have moved up and down the east coast, Florida to New Hampshire, and am finally settled in North Carolina, where I work as an editor and translator. I still travel, when I can, and meantime work on various local civic and arts initiatives.

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