Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.24
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
The squeak of rubber is the crunch of snow
Under the steps of my winter boots
As I walk through the Below Zero

And when the day breaks
The air itself is as white as if
One is looking through mesh of a screen door
The cold so cold it can be seen
In-between

Smells like candle wax on my sleeves

The tree limbs criss crossed like milky yarn
Unraveled across the sky

And the tattle of thistle and sunflower seed
Slides from my hands
Down the silo of a bird feeder stand

Stuck in the snow like a stake

I leave this trail of food
True
For the finches drained of their color
And the black-capped chickadees
That sing and chirp despite it all

A pitch of song that lifts the woods
To attention

Harassing the foxes
That prance upon smuggling moles
With their noses
Always pointed toward attack
Exactly to the North Pole

No one knows how or why
But can you imagine the divine advantage
Those foxes have over the flesh and blood
Of their tiny prey?

But I am here for a certain squirrel
That I’ve been helping all season
I don’t know if he’s a young kid with a disability
Or an old man on his last leg

But half his fur fell off in December
And his one hind leg
Is as bare a bone as a devoured chicken wing

It seems to stick straight up
Stuck in position
He can only drag through the deep snow
And cling to the base of trees

He’s half the size of others
His exposed backbone wrinkled like a lizard

Some days he doesn’t show up at all
But other days
There he is
Surprise!

Still struggling to survive

Don’t tell me
Creatures are not feeling and thinking
Afraid of death and agony
Or even dreaming of joy they once knew

The best I can do
With my own waning power
Is to favor him
With a simple toss of human compassion

A kernel of chance

And spend the day
Watching through my window
Wondering and worrying about him

Living.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required