Archive
09/11/08 - (2)
Raptured
This early-September Tuesday afternoon, We drive the circuitous eight miles, from the farm, To DePauw University's Nature Park, Where, for an hour and a half, We hike a gravel path Rimming the precipitous cliffs of an abandoned quarry, From which Indiana limestone was dug To supply grist for concrete highways, Blocks for civic buildings...
Hike under a hospitable sun, warming us And shaping invisible thermals, On which dozens of turkey buzzards hover, Eyeing us, as we trudge along the trail And look down, often, over the perilous edge, Into the algae-green water below, Floated with hundreds of geese and ducks.
Catching our breath, we lie on our backs, Atop massive boulders overlooking the crater, And gaze up at those gracefully gliding scavengers Tilting, circling like wind devils, Occasionally landing in the thick trees behind us, From whose shadowy branches they stare.
Never have I been so close to such terribleness — The sheer proximity Of something so large, so hideous, so fearful, Yet so beautiful that I can't look away. Entranced by their natural black majesty, I forget that my friends are beside me. Suddenly, I'm rising on a thermal, flying, soaring, Amidst the swarming primeval silence.
09/11/08 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
