Saturday, October 10, 2009

An Autumnal Joy

Nearly three weeks ago, while visiting Ridgefield, Washington, I slept with the Sandhill Cranes. Nestled in my bedroll, out in the field beneath the stars, I felt the chill rising out of the ground just before dawn.
And then--- they began.
A lovely morning song rose from all over the area. As the purple drape of sky faded to lavender hinting gold, group after group waved their way above me. A glimpse of Sky and Earth merged, with me sandwiched in-between.

Field Game ~

A splayed prone cross on the stubbled field

arms are finger tip stretched recalling flight

I imitate the mewing bands of flop-legged

Sandhill Cranes who've just arrived in this

Washington field of dropped corn

swooped down from the far north

my heart beat and heat surge

beyond the reach of this gentle Chinook

wind in western attire

we whisper and laugh up the dawn

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful. It seems, in my limited understanding of poetry, that so much of verse is predicated on knowing where to break the lines. Your break between "Chinook" and "wind," for instance, really nails it for me.
    - Micah


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