You Can’t Walk the Way a Crow Flies
Your inclination to grab the camera
phone is automatic,
it’s absence infuses the moment
with the rush of water over sculpted stone,
days of rain have caused an impoundment
back beyond the curve of stream
to produce this pounding energy
of a little Niagra;
your two dogs, busy with deer skeleton,
are interested only in their primordial gnaw
for old marrow and have no interest
in your haphazard path;
at the approach of dusk
you walk the steep angle of Sled Hill
and coyotes begin a magical union of howl,
as their choir fades a lone goose
flys close overhead honking frantically
for its long gone gaggle;
you look up, draw
no conclusion from the indefinite sky
no lesson for your briefcase life.
Soon
the imprints of your mud-caked boots
will be all that’s left of you here,
their message will be read by beings
not familiar to you but will be cawed out
for all the world to know
7 thoughts on "You Can’t Walk the Way a Crow Flies"
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First off, the title is fantastic! I like how you infuse modern life (phone, briefcase) into the natural one. The sights and sounds really stir the senses, and the ending is everything a reader could want. So good!
What she said !
🙂
The stanza break really works
Yes, everything a reader could want.
Bookending the first stanza with these reminders of a world away from nature give this poem a great contrast, and the conclusion is really gripping and effective!
Captivating poem–the last stanza, so thought-provoking. I enjoyed experiencing your poem!
Great power in this, Jim. I feel your perspective is that of eternity, at least as much of it as we humans can conceive. That you take the long view of things is a vast understatement.
This is really well done, start to finish, but my favorite part is:
“you look up, draw
no conclusion from the indefinite sky
no lesson for your briefcase life.“
Gutting and gorgeous.
This is gorgeous, Jim. Such fine details and images, I’m walking that path with you. And love the contrast between the dogs gnawing and that “briefcase life.”