Sun so bright & hot
my face under my borrowed
cap feels like it’s burning,
the glare so intense
I can’t see the photos
I take. An algaed pool
ringed with Nymphae —
cupped & flattened glossy
green leaves, green
stalks bearing lemon-
yellow buds, one
opens to a many-petaled
water lily, dozens of
buds ripe to blossom.
Tall water grass
rises whitish yellow
out of the pool, rises
to green clumps, the clumps
a grassy sea backed
by ragged palms backed
by deciduous trees, the trees
crowned with beneficent
blue, a puffed cloud
or two, clouds that float
in the dark blue water.
No breeze, air & water
still except for the haze
of dragonflies, most
slate blue, some emerald —
pulse & glide. Unless
I wave my arms wildly
mosquitoes engulf me
like whiskery growths
at elbows & wrists, whispers
at temples & ears. Home
I haven’t a single bite,
I’m simply their taste & see —
not delicious. On either
side of the pond Typha
range. I learn these Latin
names from Bartram. Emily
stops at common, says
bobolink rather than
Dolichonyx oryzivorous —
rice-devouring long claw,
South Carolina ricebird
perched atop a nearly
headless palm. I think it
boat-tail until my sharper
lens discovers white
rump & shoulders, yellow
cap. Across the dike
its mate, a yellow breast
I take to be meadowlark
until I talk to the captain.
That’s bobolink, he says.
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