04-25-2016, 10:01 PM
That Was Then
Feathered heads slide forward and back
smooth, lubricated, bolt action-style.
Wild turkeys two-by and single file
cross the highway.
The trees in the grove at the bend in the road
give home to hawk families and eagles –
the alluring sound of river water concertos
sluiced across keys of stones and gravel
bestowing harmony to the trim of life.
That was all before the body was found,
a young man’s carcass in the river,
ensnared in limbs of a fallen tree –
eight days bloated and well wedged.
Predator birds patrol this area, and turkeys
cross the road. But there is no longer music
and certainly not Rachmaninoff in the rapids.
Nothing that I can hear.
Feathered heads slide forward and back
smooth, lubricated, bolt action-style.
Wild turkeys two-by and single file
cross the highway.
The trees in the grove at the bend in the road
give home to hawk families and eagles –
the alluring sound of river water concertos
sluiced across keys of stones and gravel
bestowing harmony to the trim of life.
That was all before the body was found,
a young man’s carcass in the river,
ensnared in limbs of a fallen tree –
eight days bloated and well wedged.
Predator birds patrol this area, and turkeys
cross the road. But there is no longer music
and certainly not Rachmaninoff in the rapids.
Nothing that I can hear.