Moss

by Shannon Brewer

In my memory, my son running through the tall reeds
Is like a deer, or maybe an antelope--
An animal anyway,
So deceptively graceful in the grass
You know that it must be his home.

I wish that we had stopped beside the lake a bit longer that day
To watch the tadpoles sprouting from the water
surprising us with their small splashes,
the brave fish sprinkling our faces with their
tails flapping against the stream.

My son running through the tall reeds
Against the water's edge
Pushed onward into the forest
Beneath the sycamores scaling the roof
With their burly heads,
Beneath the bluebirds' and the robins' nests,
Beneath even the brown moth landed softly against the fern.

What are you looking for, I asked him, a willing follower.
Something gentle, he replied,
And then reached down to stroke with slender fingers
A carpet of moss.

The Author

Shannon Brewer lives and writes in Granger, IN. She is a graduate of the Saint Mary's College Writing Program and writes for Northern Indiana Lakes Magazine and other regional publications. A nature-lover since childhood, her favorite outdoors activities are hiking through the fall leaves with her 4-year-old son and wandering along the beaches of Lake Michigan in all kinds of weather. She loves to read and hoards books by the dozens!