Verse

      

A NOTE: I do not claim to be a poet, which is why this section is titled “Verse.” I have too much respect for those who write it to include myself in their number. But I love to dabble in the form because once in a while some ideas are best expressed, some pictures are best painted, in verse.

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SOUNDS OF THE HUNT

When the beasts in the forest

finish their feast,

will they turn to hear the chorus?

When the smoke of their rifles

rises and chokes,

will the song in the wind be silence?

When their trophies are mounted,

mankind may crow,

but the dirges of Darwin grow louder.

— December, 2011

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A CRUCIFIXION OF ISLANDS

Who cut the trees on Easter?

Whose stone gods stare

         unto the sea

         as if pleading

         for mercy

         from those

         greater still?

There is no resurrection

         for the short-sighted sawyer,

         and the carpenter will have no son.

— November, 2011

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A Morning Hike

From atop this hill I can see across the field

and over the creek to the woods on the western ridge.

And I wonder now what songs are sung

by birds in distant trees.

— Spring, 2011

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MORE VERSE:

❏ “Before the Flood”

❏ “The Plagiarist”

❏ “Umbrella Bones”

❏ “Sandstone Shelters”