[at-l] Weary's Poem

[jbullar1 at twcny.rr.com (Jim Bullard)]

At 12:50 PM 6/17/2005 -0400, Bror8588@aol.com wrote:
>I wish that more hikers would take the risk of submitting written prose or 
>poems
>that elevate the trail in the minds of those who hear the music composed by
>hikers.

Okay, I'm game. I'm not much of a poet. I don't even usually care for 
poetry so the day I wrote this I must have been under the influence of 
aliens or something. It was shortly after I retired. Maybe that had 
something to do with it. It's the only one I ever writ so far and I'm not 
sure it qualifies as a poem but I liked it enough to keep it.

In The Shadow of a Goose

Two weeks ago there were wildflowers
on the shoulder of this country road,
and as I walked along that day I stopped to photograph
Queen Ann's Lace, Mayweed, and Bladder Campion.

Purple clusters of Vetch and
pink trumpet blooms of Bindweed
climbed the tall grasses
reaching for the sun.

Then the highway department came though,
a big tractor pulled a huge mower
and cut anything smaller than your thumb
leaving in its wake a mass of mangled green.

Now, the grass is getting tall again,
almost as tall as it was,and ragweed is thriving,
but the wildflowers are gone from the roadside.
It's neater now,everything the same height and all green.

The wildflowers are still in bloom of course,
just over the fence, in the farmer's field.
Here on the public right of way,
things are neat and orderly, not wild.

Off to my right a dozen or so geese rise from a wetland.
They fly across the road, between me and the sun.
The shadow of a goose passes over me,
over the fence and over the wildflowers in the field.