Monday, March 16, 2015

Far Apart


Far Apart

They still say the cold
will increase this next winter
and then they suggest
the vultures stock up
carrion for icy days
certain to descend
from the frozen shield,
pushing all the marine air
back out west to sea.

Oh wait, that's true here
while I guess for you winter's
a different deal,
cooler and drier,
but still not frozen, not high
enough latitude -
though your vultures, vain
and otherwise do rise up
into stretchy sky.

‎May ‎29, ‎2014 10:31 PM
Modified March 16, 2015 6:55 PM

changed the title and two words:
the title was "Vultures Soar Above" while
"...vultures, vain" was "...eagles, bald"

Another of the poems that were written as part of last year's collaboration with Ms. Irene Toh. We are indeed far apart. Ms. Toh is resident in Singapore while I hang out in Oregon in the US of A.

3 comments:

  1. This is the biggest gap in my blogging history. I am getting older and there just is no wiggle room in that fact. I am grateful that it is not much of a fight in me, but I do confess I favor my bed more and more and sitting up even for blogging and poetry less and less. Oh well. I fool around on faceBook some. I have not been ill, exactly. I do not consider getting older a malady.

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  2. I think of it as a jouney, slightly left of center of middle age, where you start making slight adjustments (as you've done) to rising and sitting, movement, bending. No, I say, ill just drag that heavy old thing this time rather than lift it.
    I forget things now that I should remember (did I eat? when? what was it?) and my pill intake changes as the body does.

    Im enjoying your poetry, bythe way, a great deal. thank you for all of it.

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    Replies
    1. I will be seventy this year. I suspect that my history of abusing and neglecting myself in my youth counts as several more years of wear and tear on top of the actual. I am okay with it all but perhaps I shall depart for other duty a bit sooner than I might otherwise have done. My father made it into his eighties and my mother died at the edge of eighty. I suspect I won't make it that far.

      Delete

The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


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