by Tim Moder

A Satellite slowly streaks the sky.

The sun will bath the moon in light,

and still the moon prefers the earth.


I dip an oar, I translate god,

Dragonflies on the aluminum boat.

I look for god in lilies.


Two Loon

side by side

float still.


Now they sing,


trill and dive.


The bottom of the lake is not the pool.

Silt on my feet, I feel the years between

my toes engage decay; the rot of small 

mammals, skeletons of old amphibians 

done in green foliage, slime, otters, rats, 

frogs, minnows, sand lily’s, yellow perch, 

pink and yellow buds, the paste of ages.


The red eyes of the loon help them underwater.

Help her wind between undulating lily stalks 

lurching through creation stories as a hero trickster,

eating Pumpkinseed, willow shoots, and snail.


Wearing the crown of the northern kingdom

the Zebra necked Loon

skips across the water taking off

from Lake Minneusing or Lake Nebagamon.



Tim Moder is a poet living in northern Wisconsin. He is a member of Lake Superior Writers and The Bad River Band of Lake Superior Chippewa. His poems have appeared in Paddler Press, The Tiger Moth Review, Olney Magazine, Penumbra Online and others. Find him at Twitter @ModerTim.