A Poem from Kathleen Aponick

Haggett’s Pond, Andover

Please welcome Kathleen Aponick of Andover to our roster of writers. RPH

Postcards from Haggett’s Pond

By Kathleen Aponick

—after a recurrence of cancer

I’m by the water on a path once a railroad bed
thinking of trains whizzing by, passengers
deep in thought, tense perhaps over work,
family problems, the nation’s turmoil
until, that is, they glance over the pond
to see and hear the squawking Canada geese.


At a wetland marsh, reeds: thousands of pale stalks
like a ghost army waiting for orders. Nearby,
someone—or was it the wind?—tried to twist off
the thin bough of a gray birch but it hangs on.
I look down to its base—bright green moss,
the leafy beginnings of mayflowers.


On the hillside, trail caretakers have piled up
fallen boughs and small uprooted trees.
Reflections of sturdy aspen ripple a shade-black pool.
Was it here I heard the piercing sounds of birds
high in the trees? Why were they so upset?
Was I the intruder threatening their nests?


Heading back, a woman going by smiles,
restrains her young dogs, eager to engage me.
We exchange greetings and continue on
into the years: days of clouds and snow, peace
or war, sunlight falling through the trees,
days of unexpected changes, without and within.

© Kathleen Aponick,  2020

Kathleen Aponick, a Cambridge native, lives and writes in Andover. She has taught school in Cambridge and Andover and worked as an educational textbook editor. Her books include Bright Realm (Turning Point, 2013) and The Descendant’s Notebook (Kelsay Books, April 2020), as well as two chapbooks: Near the River’s Edge and The Port. Along with Paul Marion and Jane Brox, she co-edited Merrimack, A Poetry Anthology (Loom Press, 1992).

3 Responses to A Poem from Kathleen Aponick

  1. Emily Ferrara says:

    This is lovely Kathleen. I appreciate the introspective tone you’ve expressed through the series of mindful observations at Haggett Pond. Thank you for this reprieve.