– for Jesse Metzler
hopping to safety
beneath a bright-
at the trailhead
beat time for the wind.
A great blue heron at shoreline
surveyed granite boulders.
and a beaver lodge
gleamed within evergreen
and beech detritus.
In the pause of mutual regard.
Flowing and howling. A cackle. A bray.
Crawling, oh belly to the earth or branch,
the slow-paced reply to hunger.
Fiddling, the friction of smoldering night
that summons sunrise.
The movement of limbs,
even snaking around a tree or
snail, scrolling back into its kernel.
Or flirting. The dance in its many degrees of shading.
Running – a trot, a stride, a gallop, a lope.
Verily, a mouse scurries
– the race of prey –
Mole, worm, cockroach, cave bat, crocodile,
a beetle from some underworld
Winging, clear veining or bright feathers
– even mottled dun –
fluttering – sometimes flustered,
sometimes fully free.
Hardly a weather vane.
Ram, cock, eagle, cod –
Who will be first?
With or without a jockey.
Bounding / Rolling / Worming / Snaking / Floating
All in this kingdom of motion.
Poem copyright 2017 by Jnana Hodson.
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