Where the

Cattails Grow

By
Lisa Alvir
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 Where the

Cattails Grow

Lisa Alvir

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 Dedicated to all my family & friends
& especially to:

Connie Tyree
My explorer friend,
who has journeyed with me
through so many wonderful places
where cattails grow.

Copyright © 2005 by Lisa Alvir

Grand Junction, CO USA

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 And God created great whales,
and every living creature that moveth,
which the waters brought forth abundantly,
after their kind...and God saw that it was good.
Genesis 1:21

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 Where the Cattails Grow

T here is a little pond where the cattails grow

Where Russian Olive branches bend real low
Over clear blue water that ripples and flows
Against the muddy banks where the cattails grow.

Around this little pond, our loving God has made

All sorts of little creatures that hop and play
Along the grassy slopes on hot summer days
Around this little pond that God has made.
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There are fish in the water and little frogs in the grass

That skitter away as I walk past.

They slip beneath the surface, silent and fast,

So I can never catch these little frogs in the grass.

I know that they think they are hiding from me,

These small quiet creatures in the tall green reeds.

There’s one in the shadows, but I can see,

The tip of his nose as he hides from me.

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Sometimes I’m amazed by one brave little frog,

Who sleeps in the sun on his nice warm log.

He doesn’t appear to be frightened at all

And snores quite loudly, this brave little frog.

And those big old bullfrogs, so hungry and fat,

Just sit all day eating bugs and gnats

That come buzzing by, and I wonder if that

Is why those bullfrogs are so big and fat?

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There’s one frog I know who is very sly.

The bugs on the wind, swoop down from the sky,

buzzing in past his still, cunning eyes,

Then...oops…dinner. I told you he was sly!

As the cattails rustle in the warm summer breeze,

A spotted green frog smiles up at me

From the squishy brown mud underneath the trees,

Gently swaying in the warm summer breeze.

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And in the evening quiet when it’s very still,

You can hear them croaking and singing until

The evening sun sinks low below the hills,

In the evening quiet, when it’s very still.

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Around this little pond where the cattails grow,

God claps his hands and hums real low

As His little creatures sing of how they love it so

Along the muddy banks where the cattails grow.

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The
End