At Big Beaver Pond, an Eagle’s View
Perched atop a Douglas fir
an eagle cried—
the sound resting
upon each lily pad face,
one million strong
at Big Beaver Pond.
He saw
how sunlight painted
the tree line gold,
how the trunks & shade below
became the dark hush
dissolving into mystery.
At this time of night
the wind sang gently.
Across the pond
camas flowers bounced,
fluttered, as if asked
to dance an uncertain jig.
The eagle, the watchman,
saw a duck descend into the calm,
then the white-capped bird vanished
into cover of night,
into ancient gnarly boughs,
into leaves that held him so dearly.
To the Praying Mantis
I tried to save you,
stoic, static creature
back of green tarpaulin
royal palanquin frame
limbs like sewing-needles
by hoisting you on
stem of spent
Queen Anne’s Lace
into the shoulder’s arms.
Yet, when I returned
I found you again
tempting fate: middle
of asphalt road.
Uncamouflaged. Still.
Your plan all along:
to cross into wild
thickets north no matter
who deemed deviation
necessary for your survival,
trusting
your antennae tips,
your alien eyes,
perhaps even prayer
as you pin-drop paraded
to your next kingdom.
Mark Strohschein is a Washington state poet who resides on Whidbey Island. His poems have appeared in Flint Hills Review, Bryant Literary Review, Barren Magazine, Lips Poetry Magazine, The Milk House, The Big Windows Review, and in anthologies. Forthcoming work will appear in Cirque, Bards West Poetry Anthology, and County Lines. His chapbook, Cries Across Borders, a semifinalist for Button Poetry’s 2023 chapbook contest, will be published by Main Street Rag in the spring of 2025. His chapbook-length collection, Sanctuary of Voices, will be published by Ravenna Press in late 2025 as part of its Triple Series.
facebook: /markstrohschein | instagram: @strohscheinmark