Down in the gopher’s meadow,
The black water meets a bank of bright green—
Littered with charcoal colored slate, shifted into a home for the little truth teller.
An archway of vine spills over the rocks
As purple flowers bloom against the august air.
The walnut trees giggle from across the river,
Dropping their seedlings into the mud.
Yellow butterflies circle around the blossoms
Picking from here and there, sweeping their wispy wings
Between the green and black—
Scavenging for the sweetest of nectar.
The gopher looks upon from below,
Brown tail lifted and curved away from the dirt,
Small hands against its mouth—
sniffing out stalks of grass against the slate.
He dives into his rocky home, climbing the rocks without ensnarement.
Espresso fur smoothed and shiny, he picks through the crevasses
Before disappearing with a purple bud in tooth.
The river meets the bank again—
Green fading to black.
Hannah Bagley is a poet from the North Georgia Mountains. She is published in Feminine Collective, As It Ought To Be Magazine, and The Chestatee Review. She draws inspiration from her Southern Appalachian upbringing and viewing the world through a feminist lens.
**Featured image from PxHere