Archive
09/22/11 - (1)
Hunger
What a way to spend the best part of this Thursday a.m., Watching, from the warm, dry vantage of my privacy, In this simple cabin's living room and kitchen, Two compatible flocks — Six mallard ducks and seven Canada geese — Purposefully surface-feeding on the lake's vegetation, As they measure their course, toward my dock, From the boys'-camp shore, where boats are stored. I'm the only witness, in this village, to their existence.
From this hill, through the robust cattails, I see them skim the water, set adrift concentric ripples, As they nip, tip into the shallows, kicking their feet, Retrieving plants, occasionally mollusks, immature fish. And I've begun wondering if these creatures know That instead of treading this shoreline, They're edging nearer, day by hour by minute by second, As the nights grow increasingly cold, to winter's precipice, Which waits to snatch them, in its voracious beak.
Suddenly, I feel hunger gnawing my groaning stomach, Reminding me I've not eaten since the previous evening And that, now, it's time to fortify my energy, With raisins, grapes, blueberries, strawberries, A few whole-grain crispbreads spread with peanut butter, Then finish my leftover lettuce-onion-and-carrot salad. Now satisfied, I notice the feeders are gone. A lone, vociferous crow is strutting on my dock, Pecking dead insects out of spider webs.
09/22/11 - (1)
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