Tag: nature

Rain like rolling dice

Rain like rolling dice
Clatters on the metal roof
Of my tiny porch.
I'm reminded of the holes
In my net by mosquitos.

That sweetest relief,
Allow me to praise its name,
Hydrocortisone;
The skin's itchy memories
Are soon forgotten in you!

Nothing like blossoms

Nothing like blossoms
Which flare to life for the next
Generation, cut
By their very existence;
Who will gather our petals?

Although, our seasons
Are likewise short, aren't they?
Billions of heads raised
To the sun; but are we such
Things that never bloom again?

New Neighbors

While driving to Walgreens for you,
A pair of sandhill cranes
Stroll along the sidewalk,
Their foreheads blazing cherries.

They carry their tender frames,
So tall and russet brown,
Lightly as soft breezes
Going nowhere briskly.

We've seen a good few
Lately, are they here
Advising safety; it is 
Hurricane season soon.

Now they're rounding our
Corner as I return.
I hurry you outside
To meet our new neighbors.

I snap some blurry pictures
Of their graceful exit;
The leaves into the curtain
And sidewalks they make their runway.

Franklin

It finally happened, and I
Have felt the most singular joy:
Franklin, the largest of our ducks,
And I think the father of most of them,
Ate blueberries out of my hand!

Our younger ducks are still skittish,
So I simply toss them berries;
But Franklin's courageous and comfortable,
He doesn't fear the touch of this ape.
And if ever I feared the bill of a duck,
Truth reveals that completely baseless.
Franklin is sweet beyond compare:
It feels like rounded tongs when he nibbles,
Gently tickling my palms for fruit.

And not just that, though that's sublime,
He even let me pet his breast!
He held himself with the dignity
Of a wild animal, yet serenely,
Familiarly he accepted my touch.
With the backs of my first two fingers 
I softly stroked his dappled breast.

Franklin gives his mouth a lick
And holds his head up while I pet him.
I look into his golden eyes,
At his leathery, red face,
The equal streaks of black and white
Which course atop his fluffy head
And down his neck; he's so plush!

I thank him for allowing me
To feel the soft touch of his down.
He chuffs as if to thank me in turn
For the blueberries. He is content.
What an incredible creature I'm blessed
To have as a neighbor purely by chance,
This muscovy duck Franklin!

Percy’s Stretch

Should you have the joy of being
Around ducks in the morning or evening,
You've surely seen the way they stretch—
One leg extending backward
As the matching wing fans out.

I must have spent several scores
Of sunsets and twilights and even a dozen
Daybreaks squatting beside these birds,
But only once have I seen a stretch 
The way that Percy pulled it off.

He balanced on a single leg
And started splaying feathers out;
As I sat behind him on his left,
He seemed to point each feather at me.
Perfectly propped like a tiny scarecrow,
I didn't notice it at first.

Beginning to kick a leg out,
As if by legerdemain, from his right
The little extremity extended!
He paused: the ambiguous spinning dancer;
And stretched his toes like a black canvas.

He flared his midnight wing once more,
Kicked his foot its entire length;
Then he set it back on the clay 
And gave a little shake, ruffling
His iridescent feathers up,
Looking like a brass pinecone 
With subtle green and purple patina.

It seems so rare to me; indeed
I've never seen it before or since.
Percy then settled back down
To gaze at the sinusoidal pond.
Franklin was laid beside him, and Norm
And, further off in a shadow, George
Slumbered on the shore nearby.

I was squatting down on my haunches,
And my knees were beginning to ache.
We decided to let them sleep.
I stood up and stretched my own legs but
Not nearly as spectacularly
As Percy, the little black duck
With a dickie of white breast feathers.

Parting is always sorrow

Parting is always sorrow,
Fear of uncertainty,
Discontinuity.

These ducks that have made their home
Here are the most beautiful 
And precious creatures I've known.

I've depended on
These days we've shared together;
Who says it has to end?

The fears I have for the future.
Granite's adventuring,
I believe he'll return like George.

Even so, Cory 
Misses him. As do I.
Will they miss us?

Nothing ties them down,
Inspiring as it is frightening.
We're united by chance.

How could we let them know
We're leaving but will return
To visit them forever?

What compact could be made
To tie our souls to this place,
Returning after time?

I think I'll be visiting
More than twice a week.
Easing into absence.

I can't bear the idea
They might feel they've lost us
Or grieve the lack of us.

Will they start to think,
"Did they move on;"
Well, won't we have?

We've both lived in so
Many different places,
Why not animals too?

Darling Granite, we miss you.
We miss your happy laughter.
We miss your squinching eyes.

I do believe you're safe
And probably not far,
Likely with Patch or Millay.

We've become accustomed
To your familiar smile
And gentle friendliness.

You've been here the longest
Of all the ducks we know.
Your presence is joy's communion.

Always and forever
We will search for your profile
On the grass lounging serenely.

You will always be
Cherished and remembered,
You and all of our friends.

Our hearts have expanded domains
Grown from Granite; from Marble;
From milky-eyed Mama;

From Armor and from Helmet;
From the fly-by-night girls;
And from poor little Miracle.

I swoon for animals;
They understand hello,
But never know goodbye.

I think of Lefty the mallard:
Against all odds, born
With a malformed wing, he thrives.

Lefty and all our friends
Who make this place their home,
Aren't we of them too?

This place, this time, this pond
Has found us all together
In our liberty-laden lives.

I think of Franklin and Percy,
Loyalty and Norm,
Steve and Zebra and Mama;

Helmet, George, and Edgar,
All of whom had left
And yet returned again.

This is what we have chosen.
We all may come and go,
That's how I know it's love.

I know that we'll come back,
And so I do believe
Granite will too.

***

Just yesterday Millay
Came swooping down to greet us.
We instantly knew each other.

The little outline of white
Around her beady eyes;
How she ran to us;

Her single tiny squeak 
As she jumped onto the grass
All confirmed it was she.

She said hello then flew off.
I'd bet she's seen Granite.

Last Walk of the Night

The frogs are echoing from God
Knows where; the new moon is
Here to be missed, and it has rained.
The sky is blank overhead.

It's a navy blue hour,
Lit more by the apartments'
Lamps than anything above
Us and the twinkling blades of grass.

The glittering water is almost asleep,
Softly shifting; planes above
Hum toward TPA,
The city a milky way below.

We stroll the pre-dewed lawns,
One last visit for the night.
On the grass not far from the path 
Are groups of little dark spots.

Each one of those tiny shadows
Is a precious friend nestling
Back their sleeping, carbuncled faces, 
Resting the white curves of their eyelids.