By Amber Albee Swenson

“And God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. Genesis 1:31”

As far as I can see—water. It sits
beneath spring’s greenest hills, still and cold,
holding the thoughts of early travellers.
A paddle’s stroke stirs them and they surface
in drips. I let them run. Like heavy sap
they come to me, and as tamaracks, old
as creation’s cliffs, creak, the voices speak.
Those who’ve been here before me knew.
In back
woods, under shadow of the hills and trees—
a whisper, faint against the loon’s low cry,
comes to me in the night. Asleep beneath
the red pine, I breathe the lonely whistle,
wake to shore reeds’ rustle above a night
frog’s song. An owl’s flush grows distant, the loon
and moose are still. The night responds with
voices of men who never questioned God.
They heard and saw as I do, and they knew.

This poem is used with permission from the author, who retains the copyright. Learn more about Amber Albee Swenson at her blog.