Bigfoot and I
Today I wandered through a grove.
An ancient and dilapidated place,
decaying as groves are wont.
A wind-snapped branch here,
a worm-eaten stump there.
Until the whispering wind
softly muttered in my ear,
“This is not your first time here.”
But all is different now,
Younger somehow.
I hearken to my fearless years;
my previous encounter here.
When the stump was an oak.
A wretched, writhing tree
suffocating in a blanket of ivy,
whose scoliosis trunk bowed to greet me.
With a heave of my pack
I trudged on by.
Adventure was afoot.
Just a yard shy of never remembering this place
A twitchy leaf began an unnatural dance.
And there, entranced, beyond the pirouette, an eye.
Eight, or ten…no, twelve feet high!
And a deeper green than nature intended.
Focused with an intensity
mustered only by insanity.
Being young, and naïve,
I blinked.
That curious eye, the oak, the grove,
vanished into the whispering wind.
Now, decaying as groves and boys are wont,
I sit my scoliosis frame upon a worm-eaten stump.
Far too frail today, to heave a pack,
or pirouette for that matter.
Through foggy lenses, clouded by time,
and focused with an intensity
mustered only by insanity,
I watch.
Preston Graham
04/16/15
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
