Wetland Cypress


With raised limbs,
it emerges from drifting fog
like a Frankenstein monster.
Scarred arms splay
above sage, rusty chaparral,
tiny fireworks blooms
of bright summer mustard.

Ground squirrels honeycomb
between gnarled roots,
excavate deep burrows,
well-traveled tunnels
or luxuriate in late afternoon sun,
sprawl upon weathered stump
of the battered tree’s
long-toppled brother.

Wild turkeys scratch dusty verge.
Red-winged blackbirds dip and sway,
flutter as they cling
to neighboring silver leaf willows.
A hawk perches on the highest cypress branch,
surveys wetland terrain for scurrying bunnies.

By Jennifer Lagier

Old Cypress in the fog


The author, Jennifer LagierJennifer Lagier has published ten books and in literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Forthcoming books: Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle). Click here to visit her website. Photo by the author.

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