By Kay Mullen
Water quickens under the bridge, near the pond where the gray-green algae begins to fade. Beyond the stone arch, the cabbage with their yellow hoods and flowered horns announce spring, candles flaring among the bracken and beige scraps of knotweed. Soon, chameleon-like, they will shift colors to the cocklebur and tarweed’s deep green. But now they are lanterns in the swamp among the clumps of tawny slough, whose luster will linger long after the feathery spindles of grass die back and the elephant leaves decay.
© Kay Mullen