This pond in Manomet doesn't have an official name but, I like to call it Green Heron Pond. There is a pair of nesting Green Herons that, year after year, returns in spring and calls it home and so that name seems fitting. Their shrill, prehistoric call echos through the air as they race about together.
On a different day, cloudy skies yields saturated color and few shadows.
I am reminded of this poem I recall from my youth: "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer.
"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
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