Tweet
Suddenly spring is upon me
Forest and meadows awash in green
Leafy boughs shade sleeping deer
Alone in the wilds, yet not unseen
By the many chirping songbirds I hear
Spring has arrived early this year
Ospreys fishing and building nests
Sharing the creek with herons and egrets
An eagle perched high in a dead pine
While orb weavers spin sticky silvery nets
Blooming dogwoods, a definite sign
Spring has arrived ahead of time
Blue tail skink gobbling up black ants
Upon the grey bark of an old oak tree
Paying no mind to the flicker’s pecking
And the lizard eating king snake I see
Coal black scales and slight white speckling
Much to behold while backwoods trekking
Ever eroding, an old clay bank
High above the creek’s tidal flow
Ancient shards of pottery washed out
Traces of the old ones still buried below
I wonder how their departure came about
Leaving not but traces in a scattered amount
An ancient midden of oyster shells
Brought up over time by spreading roots
From the size of these shells, they ate well
Having also corn, venison, fish and wild fruits
An efficient culture, how did they fail ?
Old shards and shells, not much to tell
Thousands of small sharp stone flakes
Knapped from projectile points and tools
Living in a more simpler and abundant time
Than these self destructive modern fools
Long ago when humanity was in it’s prime
My ode to the ancient ones in this rhyme
From early last April, 2012
Forest and meadows awash in green
Leafy boughs shade sleeping deer
Alone in the wilds, yet not unseen
By the many chirping songbirds I hear
Spring has arrived early this year
Ospreys fishing and building nests
Sharing the creek with herons and egrets
An eagle perched high in a dead pine
While orb weavers spin sticky silvery nets
Blooming dogwoods, a definite sign
Spring has arrived ahead of time
Blue tail skink gobbling up black ants
Upon the grey bark of an old oak tree
Paying no mind to the flicker’s pecking
And the lizard eating king snake I see
Coal black scales and slight white speckling
Much to behold while backwoods trekking
Ever eroding, an old clay bank
High above the creek’s tidal flow
Ancient shards of pottery washed out
Traces of the old ones still buried below
I wonder how their departure came about
Leaving not but traces in a scattered amount
An ancient midden of oyster shells
Brought up over time by spreading roots
From the size of these shells, they ate well
Having also corn, venison, fish and wild fruits
An efficient culture, how did they fail ?
Old shards and shells, not much to tell
Thousands of small sharp stone flakes
Knapped from projectile points and tools
Living in a more simpler and abundant time
Than these self destructive modern fools
Long ago when humanity was in it’s prime
My ode to the ancient ones in this rhyme
From early last April, 2012
Comment