Having Lived in the Same Place for Over a Decade, We've Learned a Few Things

This is is inspired by Twyla M Hansen's poem "Having Lived in the Same Place for Decades, We have Perhaps Learned a Few Things."  Hers was about the people. Mine is not.

Having lived in the same place

for over a decade, we've learned

a few things.

Like how the suns shifts on the

horizon in the morning, the moon, 

too, and colors that will paint the

sky at different seasons of the year,

reflected on the lake.

We've learned to watch for turtle

heads peaking up out of the water,

and smile when they pull themselves

out to sun together on the shore.

We've learned the mating habits of

ducks and moorhens, the time of

day the osprey fish, and what

lizards and ladderbacks will visit

the sable palm outside our lanai.

We know by the clouds when it's

raining in the Everglades, and when

the sunset is happening in full force

in the western sky, out of view,

the east glowing a brilliant light.

We count the water birds' hatchlings

and watch their parents teach them.

We hear the same parents grieve

with loss when their children

are scooped up by hawk or eagle.

We know Great Blue Heron with

a huge black spot on his back,

and Little Blue who is darker than most.

We listen to the egrets screech

to claim their territory and

we know when the summer water

grasses will turn gray and die.

We see the rise and fall of the water

level from rainy season to winter, when

the skies are clear blue and cloudless,

and the green grass barely holds on.

We know when the moorhens and 

frogs will sing at night, and when 

they will be silent.

Someday we will be gone from this

place. We rest assured knowing

the cycles of nature will live on.

On our lanai, Christmas Eve 2010