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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. 


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