Last August, bone-dry in drought, New Englanders prayed all manner of prayers for rain. Now, this summer, it is as if all petitions, a year-delayed, have been granted at once. Still, we can’t help but be grateful; the primal memory of water as life-force, thankfully, continues to flow sweetly, deeply within us all.

Memoir of a Pond Watcher

by Helen Marie Casey

Feathers among the flowers,

water cascading over the spillway,

lily pads, tangerine goldfish, reflections,

Almost hidden, milfoil - intricate

work of art - and then the daylilies,

nonchalant as Venus Ascending.

As if it could matter that no one

is watching, I kiss you right there,

the fern-riddled path conspiratorial.

Mushroom, arrow, leaf, tree roots,

a path diverging. Coral bells and astilbe

nudge me to wonder: What gods do I know?

Dried pine needles underfoot, stillness

rock-like, even the little cocoa-colored caps

the acorns wear remain petulant and stubborn.

A sculpted heron reigns, the pond’s silent

deity, and then a shadowed bench almost

beckons, You come, too. Peace abides.

Lacework meadow, cottonball clouds,

marguerites in full abandon and I,

like them, begin to dance, exultant.

Helen Marie Casey's chapbooks include Fragrance Upon His Lips, Inconsiderate Madness, Zero Degrees, You Kept Your Secrets, and Mums, the Tongue, and Paradise. She has also written My Dear Girl: The Art of Florence Hosmer and Portland's Compromise: The Colored School 1867-1872, which is now part of the Smithsonian Collections. She has won the 2005 Black River Chapbook competition, the 14th National Poet Hunt of The MacGuffin, and the Frank O'Hara Prize. Her work appears in several poetry journals, including The Laurel Review, CT Review, The Worcester Review, Paterson Literary Review, Prairie Schooner, The Comstock Review, Westchester Review, Greensboro Review, and The MacGuffin.