Tuesday, March 13, 2018

I rise with the turkey vulture

late February in the Piedmont

a turkey vulture glides above the trees,
soaring on whatever currents of warmed, rising air are available,
taking what’s it’s given to soar,
and to find the carrion the wind reveals to it,

the plant world plays the odds,
somehow deciding when it’s worth
sprouting, budding, blooming, risking,
it feels the lengthening days and encroaching warmth,
open to revelation, to risking theNorth Wind
which can nip hope in the bud,

we humans prefer to better our odds,
to plant flowers that come early and that endure the cold, the deer,

to ship ourselves fruits and vegetables and meat from around the world,
in my mind, strawberries taste different
when they’re only available fresh for a few weeks,
sugar snap peas, fresh from the garden, continue to call to me,
evidence that a garden still can be worth the effort,

it’s spring in the world around me,
the years behind me, and the face in the mirror,
speak more of fall than of spring.

by Henry H. Walker
February 24, ‘18

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