Sturve Slough
a few fence posts list,
chewed green by pond scum,
a fading remember of the long-gone farmers
who first parceled the slough.
it can relax now,
perimetered by a shield of official gravel.
adored, no less, by a boxy plaza.
a pink Holiday Inn hugs the water
like an aggressive cheek.
before the farmers,
the land was sacred,
an oasis of water and animal visions.
voices of spirit and ancestry.
now it is a money-maker,
nouveau primordial:
a curio for the tourists,
sparkling, now and then,
sun scampery on oozy flesh.
when the moon thrives high,
a babble of frogs blurt tepid moans.
ducks bob and flip,
silent, busy assassins, nothing more,
gorging on croaking fruit
in the onyx water.
======================
ed. 8/1/24
Watsonville, CA
2002
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