The pond seemed glacial
the morning sullen, bored.
Not a reed or blade or branch
I stood, half-huge against
the bank side,
A distant trainís rattle caused
an ephemeral sadness...
I rejoiced as a globe of air surfaced
echoing its explosion.
Seismic sounds on still mornings.
tight, lucid, actual
I like the feel for nature this poem expresses, nicely done.