Other Harvests



Dog and me walk in dawn mist. Sails and lines web the trees: mesmerize. On the shadowed path I freeze: there is sound behind us, unrecognized. A slow turn shows nothing unexpected: the river is higher: the river catches the bank. A thump of water is the cause! Enlightened, press on: note new points of swirl, the aerial spun silks.


As the daylight begins its drop, Dog and me walk in damp field grass; gleaming and fat bladed it is.

Feather-scatter marks a kill site: one pale pigeon body rests in the swell of green fronds.
Autumn is not all dropped leaf.





Comments

  1. Geo.7 October 2013 at 23:21

    There's an elegant economy to this post. Your description of the pigeon is such a strong focal point. I sure learn here.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Heather Robinson8 October 2013 at 11:16

    Autumn is definitely not all dropped leaves. In my joy of it, I forget that there are many little deaths going on and that winter lies ahead!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lisa Southard8 October 2013 at 23:56

    Thank you both :-) I had a photo of the pigeon and deliberated posting it- but the gruesome outweighed the artistic on that one. The contrast of life and death was very clear though- I read it as a sign of renewal, even with winter looming.

    ReplyDelete

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