THE POND

I love our pond and its damp grass,

where the spring always sleeps.

And hearts are cold,

for I am a cold man.

I truly love our sleeping pond,

and its red cheeks on winter nights.

I remember when my mother made it a hat.

My mother knew pond spirits well.

 She told me that the pond was a gypsy girl.

And that she was a fairy who told drowned but kind tales.