SO, I SIT
and watch the nuthatch, the goldfinch, a towhee,
and a wren, battle for cracked corn, sunflower and millet
while the pine siskin and the jay flit, distracted
by the Broad-winged Hawk
that drops from the sky
like a torpedo.
It preys upon everything
it snatches.
I know when it arrives
and when it has gone—
a sudden pervasive
stillness descends.
Beyond the skuttle
and the flurry,
emptiness.
Decades later I listen,
as though still seated at the supper table,
four generations of stories handed down—
accounts of Wounded Knee and The Frontier Wars,
indelible—Pine Ridge, Slim Buttes, Ghost Dance,
a century or more of our nation’s long record,
of what we are still invested in today.
So, I listen.
Jean Cassidy
Copyright 2019
Photo Credit: Vernon Greeson in Unsplash
art and education, family history, history, poetry, wnc poetry, wnc writers, wnc writing
Sue Ford
I love this dear Jean!
Sharron
Me too. So visually detailed with the beauty being jusxtaposed within the horrors of history.
Nan Woodard
Jean, Your description of finding stillness within the beauty of my everyday environment, and the existence of horrendous conditions of our world, leads me back to my morning routine of meditation and journaling. Thank you!