2 poems by Jack B. Bedell

    Updated: Jul 25, 2019

    In the Open Space of a Crawfish Pond

    a whooping crane chick pecks its way

    through acres of shallow water,

    bigger than you’d think and unmistakably

    new. Its parents bellow in the distance

    to warn it of motors rumbling 

    near the banks, or fishermen casting

    from the reeds. Here now, and safe,

    it will grow tall on crawfish

    before flying away to find a mate

    of its own. It’s easy, now, to think

    of this pond full of chicks

    in ten years, when months ago

    there was only flat land and warm breeze.

    City of Nature

    —Kota Ezawa, 2011

    Wind noise and water flow,

    bird calls, violins,

    hawks gliding on currents,

    squirrels in trees, rain drops

    falling from leaves, insect screech,

    banjo, mountain peaks,

    river bank to ocean tide,

    shark fin, sunset,

    mist through sky, repeat—

    nature through the prism

    of movie sound— Deliverance,

    Twin Peaks, First Blood, Jaws.


    Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. His latest collection is No Brother, This Storm (Mercer University Press, fall 2018). He is currently serving as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.