sitting 
this new pond 
no frog 

Pond of Dreams 


It was not enough to remake 
the backyard with native plants. 

It was not enough to put up 
feeders and a birdbath. 

It was not enough to plant 
flowers for bees, butterflies, 
hummingbirds. 

She wanted a sanctuary, 
water for all the wild things, 
for squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, 
for lizards, creeping critters, 
for frogs the pondies promised 
would discover a new pond. 

She gathered the scattered 
bricks from the edges, 
stacked around the house, 
placed them one by one by one, 
interlocking bricks in layers, 
layer on layer until 
she had raised a cradle, 
a staircase that spread like a fan. 

She laid a giant bowl 
in the cradle, filled it with water, 
arranged stones for perches, 
a broken branch to give the smalls 
a path to water, plants to float, 
plants to shade, plants to add color, 
a solar aerator. 

Now, she can watch 
squirrels scurry up the steps, watch 
birds fly in or hop up, watch 
crows occupy the pond, flap away. 

Once, she thought she saw 
tadpoles, but the swimmers were 
larval mosquitos, teeming under 
the lips of the concrete frog. 

Bio: Gary S. Rosin