stillness
today has stillness all over it,
the creek low enough it whispers rather than shouts,
it’s all like a painting, carefully-composed,
a hundred or so cloud white rhododendron blossoms
artfully scattered over the rich green mossy rock before me,
as dry thunder crescendoes again and again overhead,
a gaggle of wild turkeys loudly calls out,
two males strut, their fully-fanned tails and gobbly calls
addressed to wandering peckish females,
my black t-shirt and slow motions let me attend the courting,
and snap picture after picture to hold what I can
of the courtly strut amidst the gaggles’s browsing,
rain never breaks upon us
and stillness mostly rules the forest for now.
by Henry H. Walker
June 23, ’14
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