(For National Poetry Month I write a daily stream-of-conscious poem. Spontaneous single edit – it will be ugly! Poem #16.)

mid-April
cold black pond
wind rubbing
last autumns
broken cattails

come summer
this pool bursts
with dragonflies
loud bullfrogs
mosquitoes
swarming

perched on
fallen birch
silent solitude
embraces me in
cold breath of
early spring

as children we skipped
smooth rocks
keeping time
with each hop
rippling across
spring melt water

now I write poetry
and wonder where
these memories go
when we are gone.