Within Reach

[Lizzie]

Hi, Mark. There's a lot to like here. In your comments, you seem to wonder if parts are too "poemy." I can't quite understand how a poem reading like a poem can possibly be a bad thing, unless you mean that it sounds cliche, pompous, or overwrought (like if syntax was mixed up to make a rhyme work). Since none of those issues are present here, it's my humble opinion that there's the right amount of poem in this poem.  

Within Reach

I’ve walked down many paths-
called some of them my own-
now watch as scavenging angels -- I'm assuming that you mean vultures, unless there's some mystical allusion that I'm missing. Feels almost like some supernatural being is rooting for your demise....
pick on exposed bone.

I move on as they circle
more, and more alone-
unsteady legs uncertain -- Mentioning bones in the body ties in well with the exposed bone above. 
on the way back home.

The stone I find most precious
I skip across the creek, then
see a fish there jump, and almost
hear it speak. -- Makes me curious what it would have said....

As I keep along the trail, it’s so
silent, nearly still, I watch
a red fox come and go,
and wonder how long I will.


Some nights I toss, and turn -- 'Toss and turn' could be phrased differently so it doesn't sound like a stock phrase  
awake, just like an old man does,
yet I’ll reach out until I shake -- 'Reach out' is a little bland
the Hand that gathers dust. -- So, I guess I'm in the minority, but I really like this last line. Feels like I've heard it somewhere before, the hand that gathers dust. Is this a literary allusion that I'm not familiar with? I love the idea of shaking the hand, essentially hoping for a good death and peace at the end. And the dust goes back to the exposed bone at the beginning, I presume -- bodies turning to dust and all of that. Works for me. 

I know you're wary of long poems, but there's ample room to expand the imagery of the scenes in a way that would tie into the ending. 

Hope this helps,

Lizzie