Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.190.152.109
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I walked a long path today. Off in the woods nearby.

My dogs walked with me, and took side trails on the
sly.
 
A little trail becomes a deer trail, though the
eucalyptus and pine

The oxalis grows wild everywhere the covering that
binds.

Pine cones and eucalyptus bark curls make the path
look like a stream.
 
The sun came through the trees.. the gnats danced
happily to its heat.

Occasionally a mosquito flitted by and buzzed around
my ear.

I walked until I grew tired. Found a corral with a
couple of mules.
 
They all came to greet me, and blow at the dogs, and
dance as if to amuse.
 
I lay down among the trees weary. I contemplated the
sky.

Its almost like spring out today. Something to do with
the air.
 
I studied the oxalis leaves, almost like clover in
shape

I carefully dissected one, adding to its nape

Did you know when you fray the edges when you tear to
the core you add flexibility and capability for more?

There is beauty in the fractured leaves

Their structure not quiet symmetry
 

It holds its shape still
but can move to new shapes.

It makes me wonder why in people
we are attracted only to the virgin of spirit and mind

The best companions sometimes are the ones who
have the patina of the world on them

 

Who can flex and mold and move
who have fractures an occasional tear.

 

A short time later
A peregrine falcon flew overhead

Crying its indignation
At the intrusion into its stead

 

I traveled the path further
Walking back to a stream

 

We traversed the rocky crossing
another world it seemed

 

There were no tracks upon the ground
upon my first cross

 

When I came back just minutes later
A raccoons prints I saw

 

It seems that in this secret world
There are many secrets to unfold

 

And perhaps I am a secret as well
for others on the path

 

I found a pile of deer bones,
from fall last they seemed

 

small amounts of sinew
where all that assembled the frame

 

The bones had no smell
there was nothing left of the hide

 

A scapula was what alerted me first
I identified it easily with pride

 

It appeared the creatures of that hidden glen
had removed the rest of the deer

 

Had swallowed up the flesh
And left a sculpture of light ivory to decorate the
path

I journeyed back along the track
now tired and breathing more

 

It had been several hours since I started
I wanted it not to end

 

But tired I was and rest I needed
for on my body I depend

 

The forest path is barred now
A neighbor telling me the entrance closed

 

Apparently there has been crime
and this new rule imposed

 

I discovered hidden paths among
the deer paths in the trees

 

And now they will fall back to disuse
A memory or revisited through this prose

 

The path of contemplation:  - 2-6-2001 Artimus
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required