The Beauty of the Beaver in Motion
The beauty of a beaver coming right at you
The beauty of the ripples in the last light over the pond
And in the bright sun
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To decoy me one golden August afternoon, the beaver did not dive
after the warning splash but floated like a golden log before me
Putting us both into a state
of shimmering perfection
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And then there are the wakes playing on the reflections of the dead trees
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This page is maintained by Bob Arnebeck at