A few years ago, a big maple tree somewhere lost a very big branch.
The branch somehow made it to the ocean.
And in a storm, the branch somehow made it to the inside shore of the Great Pond.
For some years now it has rested where it stranded.
Sometimes water surrounds it.
Sometimes it’s surrounded only by sand.
Slowly it will waste away.
Childrens’ summer feet will smooth the upper surface.
Their summer fingers will pick away all remnants of bark.
One of these years it may move again.
It might disappear, in high water or in another storm.
When it’s gone, those summer children will say,
“Remember that big log that was at Quansoo?”