Poets for Science
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Dear Sloan’s Lake


You, our largest city lake, were made from a leaky acquifer
a farmer punctured when drilling their well.

What, only 3 ‘ deep, you who has been whispering
windy mysteries to me every time I drive past?

How the paddling and wading birds love you,
and your shallow rooted grasses.

It is nothing at all to you
that my morning brightens when I know

I’ll see you. You’ll do what you do, seen
or unseen, and I will do what I do:

Write love letters to you, stand
on your shore and tell them. Listen

for your reply.