Tuesday, January 17, 2023

Not Alone

 


Yesterday morning there was a flock of crows
on the lawn, looking like a priest convention.
What did they find to eat, at the tail end of winter?
I wondered.

It is still dark at 8 a.m., and not one light is on
in the condo across the street.
We take our wakings slow
this time of year.

The white blooming plant in the garden 
has opened all of its buds. "Pretty, pretty!"
I whisper, as I pass. It preens, and 
stands up taller.

The local dogs know I carry treats.
My day is made when I can offer one,
and pat a humble furry head, whose eyes
will shine in greeting next time
we meet.

One midnight, outside my trailer,
I found myself not two feet from 
half a dozen deer. Their soft eyes looked
at me. They didn't startle, or move off.
I gazed back, in wonder.

That same winter, again in the middle
of the night, I saw a fat black bear 
sitting on my sister's porch across the street,
eating apples from a wooden box.
He looked at me as I shone my flashlight
at him, reached down, plucked another apple.

During a terrible sleeting winter storm,
I heard him howling his cold and his distress
and wished I could take him a blanket,
find him shelter.

My heart rests among the beasts.
I am companioned by the critters 
- and the forest, the wild shore,
and the ever-changing sky.
Because of them
I know I'm not alone.


From Wild Writing - Day One. Inspired by the poem "How We Are Not Alone" by Maya Stein.

3 comments:

  1. Living in the heart of a crowded city... not sure what I'd do if I saw a bear next door eating apples... but yes, lovely to be surrounded by wildlife instead of concrete!

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  2. I loved the images you shared here, the way you worked the idea of 'we are not alone.' There is so much life around us if we only take a look. I like "We take our wakings slow this time of year."

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  3. I like the plant preening and standing a little taller. A camellia? They used to bloom early in mild and rainy Sacramento.

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