Monday, June 2, 2008

Safety is Leaving the Nest

Is it safe to swim here?
Is it safe from biting fish, quacking ducks, hungry gators and ferocious sharks?
Is it safe to swim here?
And if it is, why would I want to?

Quiet enough to hear the noise.
Never heard bird call before
and I know birders. I know people who fly
all over the world to hear the birds.
"See! Can’t you hear that?" they say
Its clear as a bell to them, the individual twips and chit-chits and oh god the poo-ries
and the leekas-leekas-leekas. I hear nothing. It all sounds like so much white noise tweets.

But a quiet inside lets me pull apart the strands,
unweave this fine fabric of car tires on asphalt, snapping branches,
wind shifting my hair, voices across the lake, all the way across the lake
I unweave this blanket until
I hear the too-wits,
alligator ripples
sudden plash! of a branch dropping
ripples go clear across
I follow them with my eyes, envious. Will I cause ripples?

The low bird, this archeopteryx, sits there staring.
Eye to eye, it dares me to say the word
to say one word.
I don’t.
I know I will lose this match
and that is okay.
Its not a win/lose situation, not really,
It is a dialogue, for as long as it is.

It is blending again
No, not blending, not even reweaving
It is a bloody pastiche,
the individual pieces next to one another
louder, attracting attention

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