Our town contains a placid pond
Of which our folk are very fond.
Part fishing-hole, part looking-glass,
It pleases people as they pass
To think of how the heart of town
Has otters rushing up and down
Behaving like their daily cares
Are not so different, ours from theirs.
While Mother Nature keeps Mill Pond
Be-turtled, frogged, and amply swanned,
Humanity adds one more beast:
No pond on earth’s as well-policed.
And pinkletinks, when spring is nigh,
Rehearse and raise their voices high
Then pause to hear their Stabat Mater
Echo back across the water.
The moon in all her summer grace
Beholds the pond: “Is that my face?”
And stops to brush her silver hair
Before arriving at the Fair.
The Mill Pond Monster, we confess,
Is like her sibling in Loch Ness,
Yet somewhat shyer than her sister.
Look — it’s her! Oh darn, you missed her.
Amid our landscape gleams Mill Pond,
A gemstone framed by moss and frond —
A wedding ring passed down with pride
From muskrat mom to muskrat bride.
It changes with each passing day,
A real-life canvas by Monet
With which no art thief may abscond:
Our home-grown masterpiece, Mill Pond!
(c) Daniel Waters