Feral
Something in this word draws me,
speaks to my DNA. It’s where
we came from when we lived
in the trees, the caves. I sense
it in my night vision,
eyes narrowed
making out shapes in the shadows,
alert to movement,
any sign of threat.
Every challenge to us
is like a pencil sharpening,
a weapon honed,
we stay awake–
alert to the next coiled snake.
9 thoughts on "Feral"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Love the sly sonnet form with the couplet at the end.
You are so right-how much of who we are is tinged by atavistic behavior?
I just love that last rhyme. It gives it a great ending punch.
Are you on Facebook? I’m an administrator of a group called The Wilderness Poets. I’d love to have you join and post this poem.
sure or you can do it for me
That last stanza is so great as a denouement. I loved “Every challenge to us/is like a pencil sharpening”
This poem speaks to similar thoughts I have had as a participant on archeological digs…
Wow! Gonna put this on my mirror:
Every challenge to us
is like a pencil sharpening,
the ultimate compliment–putting it on your mirror