I want to build
a platform. Not a deck;
this isn’t attached to the house.
It will be out in the swampy part
of the yard, under the spruces.
Sitting on it in the summer,
the fireflies will blink
silently as the crickets help out
with music for the darkness.
When the water is high,
it will be an island,
strewn with stray leaves
and twigs stripped
off the trees by the wind.
It will be a destination, a retreat
where there was only tangled mire.
The water will still be there,
but with a stationary barge hovering
just above the surface.
This oasis is a mirage,
imagined until the day
that I wrestle it into reality.
That day could be soon.
Today, though, I will sit
on the patio and watch the pines
sway and the clouds
move across the darkening blue
between the trees.
I will build it tomorrow.
4/30/08