In the Cove
It was so still
in the cove
at dusk
we could hear the insects hum
over the bog.
The water was painted
with the perfect reflections
of the reeds and trees,
thin strokes
and deep, blunt strokes
on the motionless water.
We drifted
near the lodge,
and then we saw
a little way off
the beaver's head
pushing a small wave
at the tip
of a V,
and very soon,
though we made no sound,
as if he could feel
our looking,
he dove,
the sudden whap and splash
of his tail gave
a little shock of pleasure
at his alertness,
and then another pleasure
at the thought of him
cruising
in his own realm,
and his dark safety.
He was gone, invisible;
we glided, not talking,
not dipping a paddle;
and it was so still
we could hear
the insects hum
above the bog
in the beaver's cove
at dusk.